The 25th Year: Blood of the Betrayed
by katsparkle13
Summary: Every tribute is to be voted in. Neighbor will turn on neighbor, brother on brother and friend on friend. These are the outcasts, the strangers and the criminals. How can they fight for those who turned their backs on them? But perhaps that is what has given them their fight. One question prevails. Who can you trust? SYOT Closed.
1. The Rose Room

**A/N Welcome to my SYOT! I'm doing my best to keep it all legal, by the way. So if you've got a tribute, feel free to submit! You can always submit more than one. The form is on my profile.**

A single cold draft floated through the room. President Snow walked briskly over to the window to shut it. Cold wouldn't do. Actually, he much preferred the warmth. Especially when surrounded by so much beauty. Yes, the Rose Room had been an excellent idea.

The door swung open, disturbing his peace. President Snow snapped his head around.

"Who is it?"

A man appeared behind a rose bush. He had watery blue eyes that shifted around the room, and graying hair unkempt hair. The man stood wringing his hands, and gave the exact appearance of a mouse.

"I-It's me. Head Gamemaker Octavian." The man practically whispered.

Snow gave a small sigh of dissatisfaction. No, this was not what he was looking for. Still, the man had to have been elected Head Gamemaker for a reason. And there was nothing wrong with having the power to make a grown man quake this way. He felt his lips twist into a small smile.

Octavian's face turned confused. "Sir, what is it?"

"Nothing. So let's hear it."

"Hear what, sir?"

Snow resisted the urge to shout at the man. "The arena, Octavian, what have you got planned?"

Upon hearing this, the man's watery eyes shone. "Oh, an excellent idea!"

Snow smiled again. This Quell was indeed a good one. All of the tributes have to be voted in. Neighbor will turn on neighbor, brother on brother, friend on friend. The whole thing was entertainment gold. Now all it needed was an arena to match.

Though he would never admit it, he had been nervous. Snow hardly ever got nervous. But it was only his third year as president. It was already time for the first Quell. The last president, President Maximus, had been lucky, he thought to himself. No Quells to deal with. Of course, there was the issue that he had to start the Games and deal with the mobs and protests that resulted. Of course, Maximus had dealt with them accordingly.

He was a strong leader, that Maximus Snow.

Of course, on the day of his funeral the whole Capital wore black. Such a strange sight to see. He had to admit, he much preferred all the colors. You see, Coriolanus adored color. Light red was his favorite, like the roses. He had made sure there were roses everywhere near his father's casket. Yes, he had wept. There were rumors floating around that started shortly after he was born. Maximus was cruel to his son. He beat the boy. Starved him. Locked him away with nothing but bread and water.

None of these had an ounce of truth behind them.

True, as a young boy, Coriolanus hadn't seen his father often. But when he did, the man was good to him. He hadn't ever laid a hand on him. In fact, both of them hated the sight of pain.

Snow almost laughed at that irony. If ever a death should occur, Snow wanted it to be done quickly. Well, that was just when he was doing the killing. The same couldn't be said for the others. You see, when the Games first started, the tributes were quite understandably hesitant to kill. It didn't make for very good entertainment. But after Maximus had ordered Training Centers to be built in his favorite Districts, those tributes who came out of them were ruthless. They had been Maximus's favorites, and now they were Snow's. At least, they gave the people what they wanted.

It was times like these, staring the the man in front of him, that Snow wished for his father to come back. He would have known how to handle all of this.

But Snow was his own man.

He could do this. And he would make Maximus proud.

Octavian watched as the president's eyes lit up.

"So, about that arena…?"

**Tribute Form**

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Gender:**

**Top 3 Districts:**

**Personality:**

**Appearance:**

**Why they were Voted In:**

**Family:**

**Friends:**

**Attitude towards the Capital:**

**Romance:**

**One word to describe Them:**

**Interview Outfit:**

**Interview Angle:**

**Suggested Score:**

**Strengths:**

**Weaknesses:**

**Open to Alliances?**

**Personality Flaws/ Quirks:**

**Intelligence on a scale from 1 to 10:**

**Quick blurb explaining either **

**A. Their death**

**B. A typical day**

**C. Reaction to be chosen**

**Token:**

**Extra:**


	2. Tribute Profiles

**A/N I made sure to include more then just their names, but stories as well so it won't get deleted. I hope. So here are the tribute profiles so far!**

**Tribute List for Blood of the Betrayed**

**District 1 F-Open**

**District 1M-Adonis Lockheart-**sc148

Age 18. Adonis, on the outside, looks like your typical Career. He's tall, muscular and drop-dead handsome. But all isn't what it appears to be. As it turns out, he has a deeply rooted hatred towards the Capital. He will do anything to protect his family. Lethal with weapons, and unlike most Careers, he has an actual cause. But will it be enough?

**District 2 F-Shimmer Parker-**sc148

Age 17. Shimmer is cold. She's got a deadly aim with a spear and lives up to District 2's standards. She's convinced she was voted in based on her abilties, but there was an underlying reason. Almost everyone in her district can't stand the girl. But there's a side they can't see. When she is with her friends, Shimmer becomes someone entirely different. Because even the most cold-hearted have feelings, right? Still, you can never turn your back on her.

**District 2 M-Julian Moretti-**PurpleandBlackAttack

Age 17. He's not your typical District 2 career. He'd prefer diplomacy over killing, often working things out and giving people spots in the Career alliance in order to avoid more enemies. He's a natural leader and has an infectious personality. He can control blades remarkably well. So he seems like an obvious winner, right? Wrong. Julian can't even control the events in his life. He's terribly unlucky. He tells himself that there isn't such a thing as "luck" but who is he to underestimate its importance?

**District 3 F-Aya Brow-**Random Angel 123

Age 14. To the eyes of the nation, Aya is extremely brave. She votes herself into the Games and even gets others to vote for her, all so another child won't have to go. What a tragic, admirable story. What no one knows is, secretly Aya is a coward. She only voted herself in because of the sickness she has. Aya was too afraid of the slow, painful death this sickness would gaurantee. Aya is, in truth, a very scared little girl. Will she find some bravery in the Games?

**District 3M-Jace Ignis-**Doc95

Age 18. Jace is quite different from a typical District 3 tribute. He's tall, muscular and sometimes rather arrogant. In a district where humilty is valued, Jace is nearly hated by everyone. But his district hasn't left him untouched. He's clever, calculating and will stop at nothing to win.

**District 4F-Violet Callo-**A Bookworm named Steph

Age 13. At first glance, Violet is the very picture of who a little girl in thrown into the Hunger Games should be. She's innocent, sweet and just a bit scared. So why was she voted in? Beneath this little girl's smile is an entirely different personality. She's hiding anger and rage under it all. And when she snaps...she'll be lethal.

**District 4M-Markus Wade-**three golden mockingjays

Age 17. How many secrets can one person hold? Markus dares to challenge that. A loner in his district, terrible things just seem to follow wherever he goes. Many even suspect him of murder. But is Markus, plain and usually well-meaning, really capable of that? Could he bring himself to kill...again?

**District 5F-Katerina Rebekah Nikolina-**drinkthatliquorstore

Age 15. Katerina knows what she wants and how to get it. She can twist things to her favor, manipulate people, and turn an alliance on each other. When you see her on that screen, she's dangerous and seductive. But something is very off with her. Her emotions are extremely off balance. It only takes a small thing to set her off. How far can her little mind games get her, when her own mind is so fragile?

**District 5M-Jimmy Thrine**

Age 18. Jimmy is alone. Everyone in his district thinks he is mute. That, or he's hiding something. Rumors spread like wildfire about him. Only his family and his best friend are on his side. Will anyone side with him in the arena?

**District 6F-Anna Corinna-**LouisVuittonluver

Age 16. Anna is terrifying. She's ruthless, sadistic and absolutely insane. It's not unclear why she was voted in. Everyone in her district was afraid of the girl with the daggers. But someone had to teach her how to use daggers like that. Her father, a man so cold and indifferent...but why? What caused this family to be so strange?

**District 6M-Jake Rittler-**PurpleandBlackAttack

Age 18.Jake lives in a world without pain, with the help of his morphine. Reality is blurred and he teeters on the edge of the real world and insanity. Now forced to withdraw from the drug in the Games, will his haze be broken? Jake will finally have to realize the true horrors the world can hold.

**District 7F-India Gyfer-**The Giggling Gummy Bear

Age 12. India was born with a very strange disease, causing her to be perpetually happy. An outsider in her harsh district, India was chosen simply because it seemed that no one would miss her. Once she sees the true horror of the Games though, will her smile vanish? And most importantly, there must be someone on her side, right?

**District 7M-Raen Cole-**UnicornDevil

Age 17. Raen is haunted. At least, so he thinks. After losing his family in a fire, Raen believes they are following him. And they blame him for their deaths. Seen in his district as being possessed, people just wanted to get rid of him. But is Raen really completely insane? It just takes one person to see the true Raen to turn things around.

**District 8F-Keira Thyme-**Ruetheday

Age 13. In a year of the Games surprisingly filled with young children, Keira stands out. Firstly, her voting was completely random. It was a case of "well, no one else would vote for her, so I will." But she's not scared in the slightest. In fact, she's out to prove that someone as young as her really can win. But what she doesn't know is there is such a thing as too much confidence. She'd better learn some things quickly if she wants to stay alive.

**District 8M-Open**

**District 9F-Thorn Kingly-**Forget to Breathe

Age 16. For a girl from an outer district, Thorn has some pretty surprising talents. First of all, how can a girl, let alone the Mayor's spoiled daughter, learn to throw knives like that? Thorn is keeping something from everyone. But how will she stand up against trained killers? This one will certainly be someone to watch. But how long can all her secerts be hidden?

**District 9M-Open**

**District 10F-Howleen (Howl) Jennings-**loverman22

Age 14. Howl is tough as nails. She doesn't want to be just another poor little girl in the Games. She's resourceful and knows how to get out of a tough situation. Howl has a tendency not to think things through, but means well and is incredibly brave. But she has scars so deep they can't be seen from anyone else. A troubled childhood, an absent father and a horrible accident were what it took to push her over the edge. Now, she has never felt more alone. Will she ever get back?

**District 10M-Oak Zully-**HappyKid21

Age 14.Oak is always thinking on his toes. He's wicked fast, mentally and physically. Unlike nearly every other tribute, he was well-liked in his district. His voting was also a case of random unluckiness. He simply had the most votes for no apparent reason. At least, that's what everyone thought. But how is this possible? Oak has a secret. Someone was out to get him. But who would put a child to death?

**District 11F-Velvet (Velva) Leprois-**cherrybubble

Age 17. Velva has always had bloodlust. In a district filled with rebels, Velva adores the Capital. She sees them as having an ultimate amount of power and that they could do no wrong; despite the fact that she lost her sister in the Games. Velva is determined to bring honor and wealth to her family (at least, what's left of it) She's hell-bent on wining this thing, even if it kills her. And it just might.

**District 11M-Gav Little-**me!

Age 12. Gav has a heart far bigger than his small body. It's just that no one in his district could see it. They saw him as a theif, a pickpocket, a street urchin. Gav only wanted to protect those he loved. He's positive, caring and loving, but no one had his back. Now, he's in the struggle of his life. Will anyone take his side now?

**District 12F-Jezebelle (Belle) Holden-**iloverueforever

Age 12. Jezebelle has always been in a fight for her life. She has to feed her little sisters and give them shelter. She's lived on the streets since she was just 7 and knows how to fend for herself. She was betrayed by her district, they see her as no more than a nuisance and a common theif. But little Belle is hiding something...huge.

**District 12M-Cadence Basil-**me!

Age 18. In a district that has never won a Games before, is it possible Cadence was chosen because of this? He's strong inside and out and the very picture of what a Career might be, except for his district. All that added to the fact that he is an orphan and the people of his district have no use for him, and he was the obvious choice. How well can Cadence fight for a district that betrayed him like this?


	3. D1: The Brave and The Selfless

**A/N To encourage reviews, I've developed a sponsor system. If you want a particular tribute to live, you can give them items and even immunity by getting points. Here's how:**

**Follow: 3 points**

**Favorite: 4 points**

**Review: 5 points**

**Detailed review: 10 points**

**Answer the Trivia Question: 30 points**

**Win the One-Shot challenge: Immunity for the next chapter**

**The items:**

**Small water bottle: 5 points**

**Pack of water: 20 points**

**Sleeping Bag: 20 points**

**Bag of Beef Jerkey: 7 points**

**Bag of apples: 6 points**

**Pocket knife: 10 points**

**Spear: 30 points**

**Dart Gun: 50 points**

**Bow w/ six arrows: 75 points**

**Matches: 5 points**

**And now, without further ado, I present the District 1 Reapings! Or…Votings. Adonis Lockheart was submitted by sc148 and Kaja Thomas was submitted by Emmeline C. Thornbrook.**

**Adonis Lockheart's POV**

Shouts echo all around me. The Square is completely overflowing with people. I like it this way. I've always labeled myself a "people person" kind of guy.

Never underestimate the power of people liking you.

Bursts of color are everywhere. The bright reds and oranges of a fruit stall. The pastels of a woman's jewelry kiosk. The soft swirls of icing on cake at the bakery. I stop to stare in the window. When I was little, I did that all the time. I begged my parents relentlessly to buy me something. Now I can't eat sweets like that. We're on a strict diet. The Trainers make sure of that.

But hey, rules are made to be broken, right?

I walk in, the bell on the door jingling softly. Instantly, I'm greeted by heavenly smells. The wooden floorboard beneath me creak slightly and beams of sunlight filter through the window.

"Hi Adonis."

I turn my head to see a girl with platinum blond hair waving. Two girls behind her are giggling like mad. I hardly know them, a couple of trainees a year younger than me. Oh, but they sure do know me.

I make sure to flick my hair a bit. "Hey." I say nonchalantly.

They all fall into a chorus of giggles. Seriously? These are the rock hard Careers-to-be? I hope for their sake they aren't. I turn back around towards the counter. A man smiles at me and gestures to the pastries.

"So, what'll it be?"

I lean my fingers on the counter and blow a strand of hair out of my face. "How about two chocolate cupcakes?"

The man smiles. "Sure Adonis."

I blink twice, slowly. "Sorry, do I know you?"

"No, not really! It's just that practically everyone in the district knows about you." He winks. "Future victors are no small deal."

I grin at him. "I'm just crushed because I couldn't volunteer this year, but since I was supposed to anyway, I'm sure I was voted in."

He nods and sets the cakes on the counter. "It's been four years since we've had a victor, you know."

"Yeah, of course I know. But I won't let those District 2 psychopaths get it this year."

The baker puts the cakes in a little box and hands them to me. "Good luck!" He calls out. I give him a small wave in return.

"Who are the cakes for?" One of the girls asks. "Do you have a girl?" She makes an exaggerated pout.

"Shut up Jewelia! How could he not?"

The last words almost make me stop in my tracks. Of course. I'm Adonis Lockheart. How could I not have a girlfriend?

But I don't. Not really anyway. I mean, come on. I have perfect wavy blond hair, nice green eyes and freaking muscles on my muscles!

Stop it Adonis. Focus on your victory. After you win, every girl in the Capital will be crawling over each other to be getting to you.

With those thoughts in mind, I head out of the shop and back outside. The air feels nice. I could use a bit of time to clear my head. The Training Center might be empty now, save for a few of the most rigorous trainees. Today was supposed to be my day off, but nothing clears my mind better than seeing my sword pierce a dummy.

I turn down a street off the Square. Men are climbing up ladders and putting up cameras. Only 3 more hours. And then, it's life or death.

"Hey Adonis!" A blur of red hair races towards me.

Scarlet pulls Flame to me. He flashes me a grin.

"How's the future victor doing?" He asks, his hands shoved in his pockets.

I shrug. "I'm thinking of getting some last minute training in. Want to come?"

"No man!" Flame shouts

Scarlet laughs. "It's our day off." She pauses."Hey, what's in the box?"

This time it's my turn to grin. "Cupcakes." I hand one to Scarlet and one to Flame.

Flame's jaw drops. "Whoa! How'd you get 'em?"

"I just walked into the bakery and got them. For free. You know, future victor's deal. Who cares what the trainer say?"

"You little rebel." Scarlet says sarcastically through a mouthful of cupcake.

You know, it's funny. Even though my two best friends are a couple, I don't fell like the "third wheel" at all. I don't need a girl to distract me anyway.

We sit by the side of the street on a bench while they finish their cupcakes. A nice park is behind us. The little park by the Square is just about all the grass this district sees. All around there are shops and buildings were assembly lines ale jewelry or whatnot. On the outer edges of the district, where the poorer people live, there are factories. And mines. Most people wouldn't associate District 1 with mines, but I would. My father has been working in them almost his whole life. He got Eliminated when he was just 10.

The Elimination Ceremony is one of the biggest causes of stress in this district. It comes every year on the morning of the Reaping day until you turn 17. Each year, more children get eliminated from the Training Program until two remain. Those two are the volunteers. That's why in District 1, all of the volunteers are at least 17.

District 2 is a lot more chaotic, I hear. There, it's anything goes.

I get up from the bench. "Hey guys, I gotta go."

Scarlet rolls her eyes. "Not to train, I hope."

"No, just to throw something nice on for the cameras."

Flame laughs. "That's Adonis. All about the cameras!"

I walk away to the sound of them both laughing.

It's almost funny, but as you walk further from the Town Center, the streets get more and more gray and the people look less and less happy. The streets get smaller too, until you're practically walking in an alley. Well-paved roads become loose cobblestones covered in shards of glass. Well-manicured shops and storefronts become taverns and factories. It's not a pretty place.

But hey, it's home.

My house is just off a Square. It's nothing like the Main Square, where the Reapings are filmed. Its fountain is cracked and I've never even seen water in it. People dressed in the drab gray of factory workers mill about, coming home early for the Reapings. Or Volunteerings. Or this time, Votings.

The house is small and made of gray concrete, lie all the others around it. It's yard is tiny and the whole thing is only 4 rooms. But my parents have done their best to make it look nice. My father put in a flagstone walkway a few years ago and the grass surrounding it is perfectly green. Handmade curtains flutter in the window and the paint isn't peeling, like all the other houses. That's just like my parents, making the best of what they have. I made the best too, by becoming a Career, as we're called now. I can bring my family wealth. Happiness.

I fling the door open. My mother stands at a stove, stirring something that smells good. Velvet sits in a chair, her fingers examining a dress.

She smiles up at me. "Do you like it?"

The dress is sunshine yellow, with tiny white flowers. It's a sun dress. Velvet got the material for her 14th birthday last month. Velvet's a pretty resourceful kid. She and my mother share the sewing machine and that's how all of us get most of our clothes.

Yeah Velvet. It's great." I say.

A lot of the guys I know can be real jerks to their sisters. Since both of us train pretty intensely, we don't see each other much, but when we do I'd say we're close. She really is a good kid though. She's wicked smart and she has a deadly aim with her bow. I have to say, I don't have the patience for archery. And she's got my mom's looks. She has the same wavy blond hair and bright green eyes as me.

"I'm going to wear those nice white shoes. What are you going to wear?"

My father's head appears out of the doorway. "Better decide now, Adonis. It's your big day."

I nod. "Yessir. I have those black shoes that are a little too tight, but whatever. I'll wear that white dress shirt and the navy pants."

"Oh, those pants were ripped so I sewed them up. You've got to look your best!" My mother chimes in.

I head up the ladder to the loft room Velvet and I share. There's a chest for my clothes. I throw on the pants and shirt. Yeah, that looks good.

Oh great. I haven't thought of what I'm going to do for the cameras once I actually get on the stage. I probably shouldn't smile. Only the psychopaths from 2 do that. Plus, I might end up looking like an idiot. Maybe I should just look really intense.

I practice in front of the mirror. I furrow my brow and tilt my lips downward. Huh. That's a good look for me. I should try looking intense more often.

I can already hear those Capital girls swooning.

Once I'm back downstairs, my mother sets a bowl of some kind of stew in front of me.

"Don't spill any on yourself, boy." My father says gruffly. He is a bit stricter than my mother, so I'm extra careful for him.

Velvet runs into the room, spinning in her dress. "I bet my friends will be so jealous!" She exclaims.

My mother gives her a half smile, but I know what she's thinking. Their dresses will be store bought and they'll be much more elaborate.

"And they'll be jealous because your brother is going to be the one who is voted in. He'll be famous." My mother says and grabs Velvet's hands.

"No, they won't"

We all stare at my father, sitting in his chair in the corner. He looks back at us with intense blue eyes.

"They won't be jealous because they know Adonis might die. They at least get to keep their family."

I jump up. "What's wrong with you?!" I scream. Velvet covers her ears and shrinks down.

"I am not going to die. I spent my whole life training for this. I will bring my district glory. And I'll bring you wealth, you ungrateful ba-"

"Adonis!" Velvet shouts.

I take a shaky breath. "It's time to go anyway. Come on Velvet."

I grab my sister's wrist a little harder than I intended to, but she doesn't make a sound. We go out the door together.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a single tear fall down my mother's face.

**Katherine Jasmine Thomas (Kaja's) POV**

Rosemarie's cries wake me.

High pitched wails cut through the hallway. My first instinct is to try to fall back asleep. It's too early. But there is nothing I hate more than the sound of sadness. The wails of the crying coil inside me. They entwine like vines. And yet, they cut like knives. And I want them away. So I slip out of the bed and quietly go down the hall. The wooden floorboards creak slightly. It's an old house, full of hallways like this one. Door after door line them. The doors used to swing back and forth, filled with a chorus of happy shouts and laughter. Little steps used to patter. Then, suddenly, the sounds vanished. The doors were left shut. There is one door, though, that keeps swinging. It's an old door, so perhaps the hinges aren't quite working. but every time it does that, I can't help but look to see if it's one of them.

My family that disappeared. As if they never were.

I shiver slightly and peer into Rosemarie's room. It used to be the guest room. My father used to throw elaborate parties, full of extended family and dear friends. We had so many. Sometimes, they'd stay the night. I'd giggle in this room with my cousins until late until the night. Now, a single tiny form lies in the bed, twisted up in the sheets. She tosses and turns, whimpering and moaning.

"Rosemarie." I whisper. I lay my hand on her sweaty forehead. Softly, I stroke a lock of her dark, curly hair. "It's all right now."

She shoots up and throws her arms around my waist. Her tiny body is racked with sobs. I rub her back and she buries her head into my shoulder. She's so small, nestled here. "You're safe now." I say quietly. How I wish that were true.

"I had a scary dream." She whimpers.

"I know, I know. But it's just a dream, it's over now."

She nods her head fiercely, dark curls falling into her face. "Yes, it's over. But it was so scary! I was running really fast, but then I got stuck behind a wall. And there were a bunch of people shouting things, but I never saw the people. I couldn't hear what they were shouting, but it was loud. I kept asking them what they were shouting, but they wouldn't tell me."

"That's a pretty scary dream for a seven year old."

"Yes, it is." She says flatly.

The sound of small tiptoes echoes in my ear. Little Anastasia's blond head pokes out of the doorway. In her hand, a worn teddy bear swings. I don't have the heart to tell her that the owner of the teddy bear was my sister's. She doesn't even know I have a sister. Had. I had a sister. Nor do they know I had two brothers too. We used to play the wildest games around this beautiful house. We slid down the ornate railing. It was my elder brother, Onyx, that taught me how to do that. I was six years old and I remember it like it was yesterday. He would have been thirteen at the time. Eleven year old Capricorn and nine year old Chardonnay were cheering me on wildly. Of course, Char, as we called her, had the teddy bear under her arm. She always did, even when she went to the Training Center and my father tried to tell her she was too old for it.

But he was a softie. So he let her keep it. There was nothing my father treasured more than his children. Nothing, except perhaps, his wife. He was wealthy, the picture of what a man from District 1 should be. He owned this mansion, with its gardens and fountains. He wasn't the richest man in the district and we didn't have anywhere near the biggest house or the largest gardens, but it's still splendid. His father was the real wealthy one. He owned his own vineyard and made the finest wines in the nation. All ended up in the Capital and are highly prized. My own father didn't do much. He helped with business occasionally. But he spent most of his time with us.

He swung us from his arm, built a swing for Char and me, and made a target range for Onyx's spears and Capricorn's axes. I remember my first bulls-eye with my first bow. Onyx and dad put me on their shoulders. But sometimes, he'd get angry. Not with us, with the Capital. I heard him talking to my mother. Both were gentle around us, but ranted about the Capital to each other like mad. They always tried to avoid us seeing it, though. I don't know why they were so angry.

But I think that played a part in their disappearance.

Char was the first to go.

I take a look at Anastasia, swinging the bear. She stands on the balls of her feet, a habit of hers. Like she's going to take off running any moment. Char uses to have blond hair just like hers. Anastasia looks over my shoulder at her sobbing sister.

"Is Rosemarie okay?" She asks innocently.

"It was just a bad dream, but she's all right now."

Rosemarie sniffles in agreement. Quietly, Anastasia sits on the bed next to me. She leans her head on my other shoulder.

"Can you tell us a story?"

I sigh and look out the window. The first rays of pale pink sunlight are making their first appearance on the horizon. Soon, it will be morning. "Oh, all right." I whisper.

Rosemarie shifts in my lap. "Tell me about the day you found us."

"It was a cold winter evening." I begin. Anastasia bounces on the bed in anticipation.

"It was a cold winter evening and all the lights in the stores were lit. People milled in and out of them, shouting and laughing. Strings of lights hung from above. The fountain glittered under them. I was walking home from the shoe shop because I needed some new boots. I was sad, because I knew I'd return to an empty house. My mom and dad were gone already on their big, long trip. I knew they'd be back eventually, but they told me they would be gone for a long, long time."

I hate lying. I always have. But how could I tell them what really happened? While I was taking the one-week long Games simulation all the 15 year olds did, they disappeared. I went back home from the Center, tired, but relieved the horrid simulation was over. But it was empty. Everything was the same, no money was taken. There was a broken vase and a small pool of blood on the floor nearby. I think that's when I knew that my family was never coming back. I fight back tears and force myself to continue.

"I was walking down a busy street, when I decided I wanted to take a new way home. I crisscrossed down a few streets, but I guess I got too lost in my own thoughts. I looked around, and saw that I was completely lost. The building here weren't big and pretty. They were small and cramped and gray."

"They sure were!" Anastasia chimes in.

" No one was in sight. And then I saw it. It was a rustle, near a rubbish bin. I hesitantly made my way over and called hello. And what should I see, but a tiny head poking out. It was covered in dirt and grime. The little girl's hair was a limp, brownish color. But underneath, I could see a trace of shining gold locks slipping through. She looked up at me with big bluish green eyes."

"That's me." Anastasia whispers.

I nod. "You begged me for your help. You sister was sick, you said. The lady at the Home had thrown her out to die. You had tears streaming down your face when you said that. You told me you wanted to stay with her, so the lady threw you out too."

Rosemarie shifts and Anastasia crosses her arms. "But you rescued us and she got better, right?" She demands.

"Yes, she did. I took you both with me. I knew I wouldn't be so lonely any more. I gave you both warm baths and put Rosemarie to bed. She was very sick, but I ran to the doctor. He gave me some medicine to make him better."

"Only really rich people can get medicine." Rosemarie says candidly.

"Well, yes." I say hesitantly, wondering who told her this. "Anyway, Rosemarie got better quickly after she had that medicine. And those two twin girls got to stay. And then, I was happy because the house wasn't empty anymore."

Anastasia claps her hands and beams up at me. She grabs the bear and slides off the bed. "It's morning now." She points out that window.

She's right. The sky is pale, but lit.

"That was a nice story." She says and runs off to her own room, probably to get dressed. I watch the white lacy nightgown swish around her legs. Char's nightgown. Rosemarie is wearing my old one. This room is painted pale blue, with a pale blue and pale yellow bedspread. The furniture is white and trimmed with gold. Rosemarie has a closet full of dresses, all my old ones. Anastasia sleeps in Char's room, with its lavender color. All of her things are Char's.

The bedroom was still untouched when the girls first came. No one in the family had the heart to change anything after Char died.

She was the warning. It was an ordinary day. Char got sick so fast. She woke up in the middle of the night with a fever. It wasn't so bad at first. She sat up and still talked to us and laughed and helped me with my memorizing of the key ways to get sponsors. My father went to get her medicine. She took some and went to sleep. The next morning, she was dead. Just like that. The medicine was poison. My father tried to find the doctor to throw him in jail for the rest of his life, but the man disappeared. She was thirteen years old.

When I was fifteen, my father told me he'd gotten a note from the president himself saying it was planned. That man who gave my father the medicine was a trained killer. He said it would happen again if he was caught going to rebel meetings again. As it turns out , my father was quite the young rebel in the Dark Days.

I guess he didn't stop.

How clueless can you be? If he really loved his family so much…

I can't say I hate the Capital. I can't. It was the President, yes. But my father could have stopped it. But he didn't. So he's the one I hate. Now, I've lost everything.

Rosemarie falls back asleep for a little. Anastasia wakes up early with me every day, but "Rosie" likes to sleep in. Really, it's strange. They're as different as day and night. both have the same pale skin, button nose and the same bluish green eyes, but the similarities stop there. Where Rosie's hair is nearly black, curly and only just past her chin, "Ani's" is the fairest, thinnest blond and nearly down to her waist. Ani is bouncy, talkative, outgoing and constantly asking questions. Her teachers all say she's doing so well at the Preparation Academy, where children under age eight go before training. Her personality is infectious, combined with the fact that she's bound to be absolutely beautiful, and her wit, and she's a perfect Career. Ani is clingy too, especially to me, but to our neighbor who looks after her while I'm at school and to her teachers and little friends. It's nothing concerning, in fact, it's adorable.

Rosie is a different story. She's practically mute around others except for Ani and me, and Lititia, our lovely neighbor who looks after the girls. She hardly ever smiles. While Ani runs quickly and is quite good at catching, more sings she'll make a good Career, Rosie has a strange limp in her gait, maybe a remnant of her sickness. Rosie is withdrawn, a sad little girl. Whatever horrors both these girls have seen, Rosie's been more affected.

I pull some clothes on from my closet. It's Reaping Day. To be honest, I'm rather impartial to the whole thing. Most people here get so worked up and excited about it. I fail to see the excitement in getting sent to a possible death. I suppose that's what got me Eliminated from Training. I was 15 then, so shortly after Ani and Rosemarie came into my life. I was glad for the Elimination, secretly. Now, I could go to regular Classes where the Training Eliminated go to learn trades. I'm in training to become a teacher at the Preparation Academy. But dull gray Senior Academy outfits won't do for today. I choose a white skirt with a sunny yellow blouse. It fits, which is nice.

Classes are cancelled today. Maybe if I have enough time after the Reaping I can still help out at the soup kitchen.

Helping isn't exactly a common pastime here in 1. It's mostly "every man for himself." But I don't believe in that. And as a result, I've faced the consequences.

Here, I'm an outcast. Even those at my Classes, smart children who were already rejected by what our society deems to be "proper," treat me like I don't even exist. I'm known as "the soft one" or "the weak one." The desks next to mine are always empty and the seats next to me at lunch are never occupied. It's sad, yes, but I know I've done the right thing. And I'll continue to do it. These people here are ignorant. Only concerned for themselves.

Once I'm dressed and my hair is brushed and looking reasonable. Well, it's out of my face anyway. That's about the best it'll get. Anyway, once I'm all ready I go downstairs to fix the girls' breakfast. It's tesserae mush, but I have some brown sugar and some slivered pecans to make it more interesting. And they aren't very picky anyway.

The fact that I have to take some tesserae is a cause for a bit of shame in me. Of course, the girls have no idea what it is. But if my parents saw me, they'd be mortified. The truth is, I have to keep the house running. Electric bills, running water and clothes get to be expensive. An uncle on the other side of the district, the father of Cashmerete, my favorite cousin, sends money every so often. He even offered me a place in his home. But I told him I was old enough to live on my own. He didn't protest. I think all of us still fiercely cling to the idea that my family is still alive.

Ani sits at the table, swinging her feet and making faces at the bear. I stifle a laugh as I stir some milk into the pot.

"Are you going to class?" She asks.

I focus on the brown grain I'm stirring. "No. There isn't any school today. For me or for you."

Ani wrinkles her nose. "The teachers told us that. How come there's no school?"

Rosemarie slips into the room and quiet as a mouse, sits at the mahogany table next to her sister. "The older kids have to go to the Ceremony." She says plainly. "And the people are going to vote for…I forget."

Ani laughs. "Now I remember! they vote for somebody who gets to go to the Capital and play some kind of game. Then, we get lots of honor."

"What's honor?" Rosie asks.

I stir the grain harder, trying for some self control.

But Ani rescues me. "Oh, Rosie. Honor is when you get famous for doing something really good. Ms. Velour talked about for a super long time!" She huffs in impatience at her sister.

I place three bowls on the table. All of us eat together. I keep my eyes on the big wooden clock. Ani gulps down the food happily. She loves anything with sugar. Rosie eats like a bird, pecking at it slowly.

"All right, Ani and Rosie. You both are going to Miss Lititia's house while I'm at the….Voting."

They nod and stack their plates to wash, one by one. Ani twirls her pink dress, admiring the sash and flaring skirt. Well….not her dress. Rosie wears mine, a pale spring green one with white dots.

"Any reason you girls dressed up?" I ask playfully.

Rosie smiles down at her pretty white shoes. "Because its the Ceremony! And we're supposed to celebrate later."

"Oh…I forgot all about that."

Rosie's face falls and Ani begins to pout. Rosie sniffs. "But everyone has parties! I want a party too!" She cries.

Ani thrusts her arms in front of her and frowns even deeper.

I let out a laugh. "I'm just kidding! While you girls were asleep last night, I baked some scones. Raspberry, your favorite. And there's lemonade and cookies. Plus, a chicken and greens for dinner."

Rosie's eyes widen. "Mashed potties too?"

"You bet. We'll have a little party. Lititia's coming and she's bringing something. And maybe Uncle Aloysius and Aunt Gemma are coming."

"And Cashmerete!" Ani cries out.

Both are jumpy and excited, bouncing all over each other and laughing. "We're having a party!" Ani sings over and over again in a sing-song. They grab my hands and I walk them across the tree-lined street. It's hot outside. In an area that used to be called California, it's warm most of the year. It's odd to think that the Capital has the same climate as us. It seems a world apart.

The pebbles crunch under our feet as we go up Lititia's walkway. She lives in a nice brick house with white lace curtains. Sometimes I help her around the house, making up for her babysitting. She's old, so she appreciates it. Ani and Rosie swing on my hands happily.

We walk up to the porch. I don't even have to ring the doorbell for Lititia to open it. She shepherds the girls inside.

"Thank you again Lititia."

The woman shakes her head so her white bun becomes looser. Chains of bangles dangle on her arms. "Oh, no need to thank me. You'll only be gone for a short while."

I nod. "I'll come right back."

Turning, I walk away from my cheery street and into the busier streets of the district. People mill about, dressed in nice clothes. Teenagers call out to each other. Children run about, absorbing the excitement, but likely not fully understanding what it's for. Shopkeepers put up "Closed" signs. They'll be going to the Square too, watching daughters, sons, nieces and nephews. Heavenly smells waft out of the baker's shop. He's gotten especially good business today. A lot of people buy special treats for their family, preparing for the next two weeks of "entertainment." I heard the other districts celebrate too.

But for other reasons.

The words echo in my head as I wait my turn to get my finger pricked.

_I'll come right back._

I always have nerves. But I'm sure they voted in someone else. Even though I am widely disliked…

No, Kaja. Don't think like that. It won't happen.

I keep my head erect throughout the finger pricking, the wait in the 16 year old section and the escort's speech. The girls around me bristle with excitement the whole time, whispering to each other. Who will get picked? Someone they know? The name "Adonis" keeps escaping their lips.

Adonis Lockheart.

He's our very own district heartthrob. And yes, he can wield a sword. But a pretty boy with big muscles isn't my type. The truth is, I don't think I'll ever marry. Not as long as I'm in 1. What a sad thought.

I don't really know Adonis, truthfully. I was Eliminated. And he wasn't. I just know that he's intense. I bet the girls in front of me all think he's terribly handsomely mysterious. For God's sake.

I try to focus on the ridiculous outfit Helios Sunshine, our mentor is wearing. If you think the name is outrageous, try looking at his style. Today, its a suit made entirely out of gold sequins. Still, I have to have empathy. That is just sad.

Now he has a sheet of paper in front of him. The results.

For some reason, everyone stands on their toes.

"Adonis Lockheart!"

Well, of course. He walks up to the stage looking, what a surprise, terribly handsomely intense. Oh well. I'll give him a chance. He's probably going to win. Unless the monsters from 2 are particularly monstrous.

Helios pulls another sheet of paper from an unknown source. The girls in front of me clutch each other's elbows and hands.

"Katherine Thomas!"

That was my name.

**Adonis Lockheart's POV**

My mother's arms wrap around me, trying to hold on.

"Mom, it'll be okay." I mutter.

My father pats my shoulder. "I'm proud of you, boy."

My mother stands up and wipes her eye. "And I trust you will continue to make me proud."

Velvet stands next to her, staring at her feet. But now, she smiles shyly at me. "And me." She adds. "You'll make me proud too."

I laugh. "You're friends will be so jealous! A mansion in the Victor's Village. Just think about that!"

She bounces up and down on her toes. "Oh, I can't believe it."

My father clears his throat. "You'll have an advantage too, Adonis. You'll be older than most of those kids. Plus the fact they're all sniffling, whimpering scrawny kids."

Velvet bites her lip. "Don't kill any little girls, okay Adonis?"

"Velvet!" My father says in his "warning tone."

But she presses on. "I'm serious. No killing twelve year old girls, promise?"

I ignore my father's pulsing temple. "Yeah, yeah I promise."

She smiles. "Thanks Adonis." She walks up and puts her arms around me. My mother sighs a little.

My father grunts slightly. "Well, I guess it's time to give you your token or something. Do be honest, I'm not really sure what the point of it."

"It's for the tributes that die there. So they have a piece of home to hang onto." Velvet says softly. But she got it perfectly. Except, many of these come from bad home lives. In fact, I don't even think mine is all that happy. But at least I'm not beaten up daily…or worse. Still, I bet somewhere out there there's a tribute with a family who truly cares about them.

My mother digs into her purse. She pulls something really, really shiny out of it.

It's a small gold pin with the District 1 symbol on it. It's completely encrusted with diamonds.

"Wow. Ummm…thanks mom." I stammer. "It must have cost a fortune."

She smiles and busies herself attaching the pin to my collar. "Well, you're my only son. And this is your defining moment."

I like that. My defining moment.

Velvet lets out an "oooh" as she sees the pin. I think it's something more for girls, but like I said, it cost a fortune. I would never want to insult my mother. She stands there, looking meek and slightly disheveled. And scared. She thinks perhaps I can't see it, but I'm a man, not a boy. Anyone could see the way her eyes are so wide,darting madly, the way her fingers are fluttering and the way she's taking all those deep breaths. Anyone perhaps, except my father.

He stands there, cold and indifferent as a stone wall.

A Peacekeeper, dressed in all white, taps his wrist. "It's almost time." He says in a gruff voice.

Velvet thrusts her arms around me again. "See you home soon." She whispers in my ear.

But I can hear a measure of doubt i her voice. I lift my hand to stroke some of her light hair in what I hope is a comforting way.

"I'll see you in the Victors Village." I say. She msiles at that one.

My mother runs her fingers through my short hair. "Adonis, you are perfect. I know you will win." She nods her head fiercely at this. But I don't know if anyone falls for it.

"I will, mom. I'll come back to you. And we're going to have a much better life. Trust me."

My father stands there strangely. Eventually, he decides to thrust his hand forward in a handshake. Then, he thinks better of it and pulls me into an embrace. The first we've had in years. Yes, he's ice cold. But he's toughened me up. And sometimes, little cracks of light show through his shell. Like right now.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

A Peacekeeper leads them out of the room. They process obediently. Velvet throws me one last glance and a half hearted wave before she leaves.

I'm left alone. I finger the pin. My defining moment.

**Katherine Jasmine Thomas's POV**

What should I do?

Should I wait here, in this dark and cold room alone? Did anyone tell Rosemarie and Anastasia where I am? I want nothing more than to see them. I want to say goodbye. But I could win. No doubt, I will fight to get back to them. A life full of wealth and no more worries. Isn't that what I've always wanted for them? This is the last way I'd hoped to get it. But I'm trained. Granted, not to the fullest extent, but for a long time. That Training Center was my second home for years. I could really do this, then. But even if I did win, it wouldn't be me returning. I wouldn't be the same girl Rosie and Ani knew. I would never be the same. Yes, goodbye is still necessary.

I throw my head back in frustration. The ceiling is interwoven with cracks. Like I could be when I return. Still me, yes, but broken. Damaged. I've seen the Victors. Our own district has the second most, after all. They aren't like they're pictured at the Training Center. Glorious heroes, wealthy and strong. They walk with their heads held low. Wealth means nothing. Money can never erase what they've seen.

We spend our whole lives training to kill. But when you're driving a spear through a twelve year old with wide, frightened eyes, it's different. How can he be your enemy? He probably only weighs ninety pounds, starved and scrawny. That is no honorable fight. In fact, that just leaves shame.

I try to make eye contact with the Peacekeeper at the door. Does he know what's going on? Why haven't my girls been brought in? Maybe Lititia knew they would be too scared. They would finally realize I may die. But how could she explain me just disappearing? They must be on their way right now.

"Please." I whisper.

The Peacekeeper turns, confused. No doubt, he's used to the typical District 1 Careers, not some girl who was voted in to be gotten rid of. He's used to the ones who hold their heads high and arrogant, ready for anything. "What?" He says gruffly.

"I need to see my little sister. They're on their way now, but they couldn't be at the Reaping."

"We have a set time limit. All siblings are asked to be at the Reaping because of cases like these. They should have been there. Those are the rules." He says this in a slightly robotic voice. Like he's reading it from a manual.

Please, do you have little siblings? Maybe children?"

His blue eyes soften at this. "I'm sorry." He sounds remarkably human now. "But you have to be on that train to assure you arrive on time. Chariot parades can't change their air time." He's back to his stiffness. I nearly reached him for a moment there.

There's no hope now. We sit together in complete silence. Well, I sit. He stands at the door, shifting his gun between his hands nervously. I stare at my feet, in their too tight dress shoes. I want to go home. I want it to be morning again, with the dawn showing its face. I want Rosie on my lap and Ani giggling at my side. Happy because she has no idea about the world she lives in. So pure and good, both of them. This place hasn't spoiled that yet. It will soon though, whether I'm there with them or not.

Finally, I hear a stirring in the hall.

"That's them!" I shout out.

But the Peacekeeper just shakes his head. "They only have thirty seconds."

I groan softly.

The door is thrust in and the little ones tumble in. Ani throws herself at me and Rose clutches onto my skirt.

"Ms. Lititia said you were going away. She said you might not come back." Ani wails. It's a high, piercing wail that I've never, ever heard before. It makes the hairs on my neck stand up. Lititia and the Peacekeeper both look uncomfortable and worried about the hysteric little girls in front of them.

Just as I gather them both into my arms, the Peacekeeper gently tugs Rosie's arm. She lets out a shriek.

"You have to go now. We're already late." He mutters to her.

Another Peacekeeper stands at the door. I notice Adonis behind him, trying to look at the scene.

"Nooooo!" Rosie moans. She grabs onto my arm.

"Rose." I whisper between clenched teeth. "You have to go."

"But what if you don't come back?!" She screams. Ani lets out another shrieking wail and buries her head into me.

"I will." I say, my voice shaking. "I promise, remember?"

The Peacekeepr grabs Rosie's hand more roughly than I'd like and pulls her away. Lititia and Ani are shepherded away by the other one. Rosie looks back at me, a wild look in her teary eyes. Ani does too, with a tear-stained face.

Rosie thrusts her arms out and fights against the Peacekeeper as he drags her through the door. "Don't go, Kaja, don't go!" She cries.

Ani joins in. "Don't go!"

My heart feels as though it is cracking, just like the ceiling.

I reach my hand and try to touch one of theirs. I almost reach Ani's, but she's too far away now.

A third Peacekeeper stands in front of me, blocking me off. I try to look above his shoulder.

"I love you!" I call out.

"I love you too!" The call comes out, so loud and strong from Rosemarie, of all. She yells it so loudly I almost hear the roof sway.

"I'll always love you!" Ani calls to me.

And then, they are gone.

And I am left to think.

What does a child know about "always?"

**A/N So that concludes the first chapter. Thank you to sc148 and Emmeline C. Thornbrook for their tributes. Now for the first trivia question. Remember, these are worth tons of points. And don't go back in the book and check! I'll also put in the first one-shot contest. And the winner of that gets immunity in the Bloodbath for the tribute of their choice. ( If you do not have a tribute in this story, please refer to the list in the previous chapter. Maybe find one you'd like to read more about. Any pairings are excepted. Besides Glato. I despise Glato. Yes? So here we go.**

**Trivia Question: What color dress did Katniss wear in District 2 during her victory tour?**

**One-Shot Contest- There will be a prompt for this. The prompt is "Stone Hearts." MAke of it what you will. The winner should be announced by the end of the Reapings.**


	4. D2: The Unfortunate and The Heartless

**A/N And now for the District 2 Reapings! Or voting's or Volunteerings or whatever. Here we have Julian Moretti brought to you by PurpleandBlackAttack and Shimmer Parker submitted by sc148.**

**Julian Moretti's POV**

It's hard to imagine that there was ever a time without the Games. And it's even harder to imagine that no more than twenty years ago, District 2 was as weak as the rest. The Training Center never stood in the Town Center and people milled about with dull looks in their eyes. There was no bloodlust, no thirst for glory.

And there was also a time when everyone hated the Capital.

But that was a long time ago. Now, the every child's waking moment involves training. The sounds of teachers writing lessons and pencils scratching away were replaced by the sound of swords clanging and feet pounding. And every day, the same word echoes over and over again.

Kill

Kill

Kill. I am no different from the rest. I wake up in the morning, eat some tasteless mush and go to train. I don't disrespect the Trainers and I do as I'm told. I'm a good fighter. I'm an adequate wrestler. Then, I come back home, study some strategy stuff everyone else finds useless, and go to sleep. And up until about four years ago, I just existed. I wasn't at the top of my class. Bloodlust and a thrust for glory were never my things. Sure, I'd love to get rich. I always have wanted to be able to give that to my family. But you know, I don't think I'd want to get by driving a blade into some 12 year old's chest. So I was ignored by the Trainers and the gamblers that crawl about the Training Center, making bets.

She'll die first.

He's victor material.

100 dollars says he goes to the Games, but doesn't make it past the final four.

100 dollars says he'll win it all.

Unnoticed. That was me. But then everything changed.

When I was 14, I first got my hands on a dagger. At the Center, most guys don't use daggers. They use swords or spears. But I practiced day and night with those daggers. The feeling they gave me, all that control, was something else. Especially because I'd never really had control of anything before. Bad fortune just has a way of finding me. Always has. I mean, it's never been anything too serious, but it's the little things I've taken to noticing. Gambling's big in District 2. It hasn't always been that way. We used to be an honest, hardworking district, according to my father. We did our job and we were down-to-earth. Good people, a lot like District 7. My father likes to go on and on about those times.

Anyway, because gambling is so big now, kids get into it. It starts small. You know, kids betting on who can run the fastest, with a candy bar at stake. Well, I never won. Never. Things spill on me, freak accidents happen almost all the time, I break bones over and over again, and I get more colds than any guy I've ever met. In the simplest terms, it's all bad luck. But now, I can control what happens during gambling. Because I'll win. Put me against a huge guy with an enormous sword, and my trusted little dagger will get him every time. No luck needed.

So then, I got noticed. Trainers paid more attention to me. People became more hesitant to be my sparring partner. The gambler's greedy eyes fell on me.

I got to the top of my class. People began asking me when I'd volunteer. But I never answered. The truth is, I never wanted to volunteer. I've got a family who cares about me. Not just some drunk guy who beats his kids and an absent mother, like a lot of the kids in this district. I wouldn't do that to them. My sister never volunteered and she could have, sure. She was lethal with a spear. But it runs in the family. all of us hate killing. We can barely even watch the Games. Of course, we'd never let anyone know about that. We're invited to all sorts of "Game watching" parties. We always try to avoid them. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with giving your district honor. But they don't kill the "honorable" way. I only kill if its necessary and I make it quick. I can't say the same for the rest of the Careers.

It was about a month ago when things went from bad to worse.

It was just another evening. The rain made the unpaved streets hard to walk on. Tiny rivers ran between cracks. Shouts and laughter filled the streets near the tavern. I dodged my way around it.

"Hey Julian!"

The voice was gruff and I recognized it immediately. It was Lance, a fellow trainee. A bunch of guys were around him, staring at something on the street. They were gambling, I could tell.

"Come on, get out of the rain!" A guy by the name of Flint yelled at me. They were playing under an awning. I figured there was nothing wrong with watching. Most of the time, the guys keep their distance. I'm the weird one. So I was middy curious.

The Game involved dice. Lance threw his and Flint threw his. Whoever got the higher number won. Pretty simple, right?

"All right, how 'bout this?" A guy I didn't recognize spoke up. He was in the year above us in training. Probably could've volunteered. I vaguely wondered if the Quell made him mad about that.

"So how 'bout this is what happens to the loser. The winner votes them into the Games, whether they're ready or not."

"Ohhhh…" A skinny kid behind him let out a low whistle.

Lance grinned. "You're on."

I was getting funny feeling in my gut, but the rain had picked up, so I stayed. Lance won.

"Oh, come on!" Flint cried out. Then, his eyes got a funny look in them.

"I've got an idea. How about we just forget about that bet, it was stupid anyway. It's not like one vote can make a difference. This time, somebody play Lance. If they win, they get the lovely 200 bill that's sitting in his pocket."

"Wait-what?!" Lance shouted.

Flint grinned. "And if they lose, every person here votes them into the Games and tell everyone they know to do the same."

"Oh yeah!" Somebody yelled out. It was just a kid, no more than 13, with a scar running down his face. Buy, was he getting into the wrong crowd.

200 dollars. My mother's birthday was coming up. Maybe I could finally afford to get her something. Or at least get us some decent food.

"I'll do it." I whispered.

So the dice were in my hands. I took a deep breath. Sweat was starting to form on my brow. My fingers shook slightly. The next thing I knew, the dice were on the ground. The number was was 11.

I let out a sigh. The chances of Lance getting a 12 were so small. He threw his dice.

It was 12.

Panting, I sit up in my bed. I went back to that night, didn't I?

Shaking, I sit up. Sunlight filters through the window. It's Reaping Day. The day I'm going to have to say goodbye.

"Get up, you lazy slob!" My brother hangs on the door, a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"It's Reaping Day, idiot." He says and plays with the doorknob. "We have to be in the Square in an hour."

I force a grin for him. "I bet they voted you in." I tease. If only he could know the truth.

He wrinkles his nose. "You wish. Everyone in my training group loves me."

I roll my eyes. "Oh yeah. Your gorilla-like laugh is so infectious."

Alexander laughs loudly and runs out of the room, but then suddenly stops. "Oh, I forgot to mention. Your girlfriend is at the door."

"Shit!" I yell loudly, then cover my mouth while he walks out laughing.

"She's not my girlfriend." I say to no one in particular.

I race out of bed and throw on some black training pants and a plain white T-shirt. Out of breath, I run down the creaky stairs.

Nazri sits in the living room on our beat-up couch with the stuffing ripping out of the sides. but she doesn't seem to mind. She loves my family and all its chaos. It figures. Like I mentioned before, a lot of the kids in this district get beaten. She's one of them.

She stands up and smiles. "I was thinking we could walk into town and grab something to eat before the Reaping."

I shove my hands in my pockets and try to look casual. "Yeah, sure. Sounds great."

She smiles again and walks to the door. Her dark red skirt swishes on her perfectly tan legs. She notices me staring. "Oh, do you like it? I picked it up at the secondhand store. I don't think anyone will ever have to know."

She's wearing a white short-sleeved blouse above it. It looks really good on her.

I nod. "Yeah, looks good."

Now that I think about it, I could make a pretty good boyfriend. But Nazri's just a friend. We've been best friends since Day 1 of training and it would just be too weird to ask her…the question. I think we already are a couple..maybe. We're just not willing to admit it.

The walk is mostly silent. A few people, mostly miners and people who work in the Nut, the huge mountain surrounding the district, walk near us. District 2, for the most part, is a pretty quiet place in the morning. The gray tones seem softer and the whole place is more peaceful.

The Square is mostly empty, save for a few camera crews. The stage in front is getting a huge screen set up on it. In less than in hour, my face will be all over it. What should I look like? Brave, like I saw this coming? Cocky, like I could take on the world? Or just neutral…kind of above it all. Oh well. It doesn't matter anyway. I'll just let whatever happens in the Games speak for itself. A crowd of rowdy kids runs between Nazri and me. They call loudly to each other and pass a falling-apart ball between them. I stop momentarily to look at them. None of them looks more than 10. Just kids, probably haven't even started real training yet. What things are in store for them. Will one of them end up in the Games? Will it be the boy who seem to be the rowdiest and the leader? Or the girl with the short hair and dirt-covered knees. Will one of them end up dead, all for the sake of bringing glory to a district so far from its original noble self?

Nazri and I stop inside at a fruit stand. Nazri loves fruit. "Two mangoes, please." She says sweetly.

Mangoes are pretty rare. I pull out some money from my back pocket and Nazri smiles. "Nothing wrong with a Reaping Day treat." She says. The mangoes in our hands, we walk to sit at a table outside a crumbling storefront. You'd think, with all the honor we give to the Capital and how much of lapdogs we ended up to be, we wouldn't be so dirt poor. But that's why we end up having more victors than any other district. We don't grow up spoiled, like the District 1 kids. We grow up half-starved, beaten and constantly hungering for something better.

"You're really quiet today Julian. What's wrong?" Nazri asks, her tone taking an innocent quality to it.

I could never tell her. But…but what if I do end up dying? I mean, I'm from District 2 and we never die, right? We're Careers. That just wouldn't happen.

"I made a huge mistake." I say softly. The warm yellow of the mango in front of me glistens cruelly. A speck of color in a sea of black and gray that is District 2.

"What did you do?" Now Nazri's voice is oddly flat.

"I gambled. Well, sort of. I lost this stupid game and now I'm going to get voted in."

"I don't understand." She whispers.

"Me neither."

**Shimmer Parker's POV**

Hate is a strong word. With that in mind, there are many people I hate. And right at the top of my list is my mother. _But Shimmer, she is the woman who raised you. She never laid a hand on you and hardly even raised her voice. She gave you a happy little childhood. Shouldn't you be thanking her? _That is what you might say. I don't care. Say what you like. I despise the woman.

How could anyone have a happy little childhood with a name like Shimmer? The name was her idea. My father wanted to name me Azure. But the man is so cowardly he couldn't even speak up. He's still like that. So I hate him too.

There is nothing I hate more than a coward.

I should know. I come from a whole family of them. My brother is no better. He dropped out of training three months ago to become, of all things, a carpenter. A carpenter? Now he's an apprentice to some other cowardly, sniffling runt of a man. I should be ashamed, but I make sure to keep my head held high. That makes a good impression on people. And when I find out that it is me the people of District 2 have chosen to represent them in their Games, I will hold my head up even higher.

A knock sounds at my door. Sighing I place the brush down. "What?" I growl.

My mother comes in, wringing her hands. "Do you want me to help you get ready?" She whispers.

I roll my eyes and stare at my reflection. My crystal-colored eyes stare back. Long, blonde hair falls down my back in a perfect sheet. In District 2, beauty is a rarity. Our tributes have dark hair, the girls with hair so dark it's almost black. They're muscular, but for the most part have the figure of an underweight twelve year old boy. I mean, they've got nothing working for them. Not me. I'm the very picture of District 1 beauty. Blond hair, light hair and curves in all the right places. I smile at the reflection. Oh, those Capital citizens will have a surprise in store for them this year, won't they? Finally, a pretty tribute from this district who isn't all harsh and angular.

My mother gives me one of her wan smiles. "Yes dear, you're gorgeous. Now, do you need my help?"

"No!" I snap. "No one in this useless district knows anything about looks anyway!"

She quietly backs out of the room. Much better. Sure, I love people and the attention they bring with them as much as everyone else, but I still love to spend time alone. Besides, I have to focus. Perfect looks don't come effortlessly. I glide some lipstick along my lips and put on a touch of blush. I run my fingers through my hair, satisfied. A tight black skirt goes just right and on top of it, a turquoise top. It'll do.

But what about who I'll be seen with? That can be just as important as looking the part. I need Xavier. Sure, I can show the cameras I'm ruthless, but there's no sense in showing them I'm heartless. That won't give me any sponsors, or at least, people won't like me all that much. Not that I'd care usually. I let my talent speak for itself. No other girl or even boy at the Training Center has my aim with spears. No one. But now, it's pretty important to get people on my side. And I can do that by being the "poor girl with a boyfriend waiting for her to come home" or whatever.

I'll have the nation wrapped around my little finger.

My way to Xavier's apartment is also the way to the Square, so we can walk their together. I'll make sure to get us near some cameras. I put on some of my favorite combat boots and head out the door. Not like anyone in my family cares. Brion, my loser brother, lifts his head from the book he's reading, though. "Hey Shimmer, don't forget to be in the Square at 10:00."

I give a sound between a snort and a grunt and shut the door. The hallway outside our apartment is so dingy. A single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, flickering because no one wants to repair it. Plus, it's better not to be able to see the floor. It's probably covered in rat crap or something. The floors are bare and creak under my weight, even though I'm pretty well-toned. It's just that every girl in this district is rail thin. And covered in bruises from their daddies beating them. Not the kind of place you end up having a happy childhood.

A chilly breeze hits my face as I walk outside. It's May, but District 2 seems always cold. Inside and out. Sheets and clothes flutter in the breeze outside someone's apartment window, white and pure against the low, gray sky. Puddles form, muddy brown from last night's storm. It rains a lot here. I like the rain. It makes the streetlight seem to glimmer and the pavements shine. A lot of people think rain is sad, but I love it. For me, rain is happiness. The way it makes cobwebs look like jewels, the gutters become rivers and the moon shine that much brighter. I almost wish it was raining now.

Xavier's apartment building is right across from the Square. That's where the slightly wealthier people live. But District 2 doesn't really have any wealthy. Just the mayor. His apartment is as crumbling as mine is. I open the heavy wooden door. A few men smoke in what compensates as a lobby. They're dressed in the white-ish gray of Peacekeeprs-in-Training. I know to stay away from those people.

"Hey gorgeous." One of them purrs gruffly.

I roll my eyes, but don't make eye contact. That's the last thing you want to do. "You wish." I say icily and press the button on the old elevator.

I go through the door to the sound of them whistling. Disgusting. District 2 men and boys are such…cavemen. Now District 1, that's where the real men are. I was so destined to be from there. But alas, I'm not. I had to get a boyfriend from here. I knock on his door.

"Hey Shimmer." Xavier grins.

I give the boy a half smile. Xavier is like a puppet. He'll do whatever I tell him to do. He has good looks and a hand with swords, so he's not hopeless. But he's more of a helpless puppy than anything. He would jump off a bridge if I told him to. He knows he's damn lucky to get me. And that's good that he knows it. But his poor, shallow mind just doesn't work for me. Who knows? Maybe after I win these Games I can marry some District 1 "prince". I bet they're all so wealthy over there. That would be something!

"I was thinking we could walk to the Square together, you know, just the two of us." I say, sweet as syrup.

"Not any of your other friends?" He asks hesitantly.

"I love Aphrodite and Heather to death, but I think that it would be so nice to be alone, you know?"

He grins. "Uh, yeah. Great."

I lace my fingers into his and we make our way out of his building. Once we're outside, I note the appearance of a camera on the side of a shop. Casually as possible, I lean my head against Xavier's shoulder. He jolts, then grins. Obviously, he's immensely proud of his "accomplishment." He strokes my hair a little. Well, it looks like he's caught on. Maybe he's smarter than I give him credit for. "Do you think they voted you in?" I ask innocently, with just a trace of sadness.

Xavier shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, probably. Maybe they voted you in too."

I shake my head fiercely, even though I know the truth. "Oh no! They wouldn't do that to us! We'd be torn apart."

He strokes my head some more. Ugh, it's uncomfortable. Not like I would tell him. "I know babe." He says softly.

Babe? Seriously? What year is this; 2200? I force a smile at him that even I feel is unconvincing.

The loudspeaker above us crackles. Xavier and I turn our heads towards it.

"Attention citizens. The Reaping Ceremony will begin in 10 minutes. Please go to find your places. There will be section marked off for age groups. Before you do this, make sure to check in. No one will be allowed entrance unless you check in. As you know, this year is slightly different. Instead of a name being drawn, our escort, Lucian Esmerald, will read the results of the vote. There will be no volunteers."

"Well duh." I mutter under my breath. Xavier pats my shoulder, "Come on, babe. Lets go."

Again with the "babe"!?

He holds my hand the whole wait to get our fingers pricked. The little girl in front of me, her first Reaping probably, winces when the needle goes in. Pathetic. Finally, its my turn.

"Name?" The woman asks in a clipped voice.

"Shimmer Parker." I say, loudly and clearly. She yanks my finger and jabs the needle in. Roughly, she presses it onto a piece of paper. A speck of red on pure white. So bright and ominous. And its mine. It fascinates me how part of my insides could be on that paper. Blood. I'm sure to see a lot of that these next few days. Red and shining. And with every drop spilled, I'm one step closer to victory.

A smile creeps onto my lips.

I lift a few fingers to wave goodbye to Xavier. He waves back from the crowd of seventeen year old boys. I walk briskly over to my own section. It's almost funny, how quickly the girls part for me. They're afraid of me. Imagine! District 2 girls are afraid! They probably think I'm the most cold-hearted person they'll ever meet. And here, that's something to say. A tiny circle is made so I'm left standing alone, until a girl with shockingly pale skin stands next to me. Her eyes glisten with excitement just like mine as we watch the stage. I see our previous victors, all 9 of them, making their way to the stage. One of them committed suicide last year. What an idiot.

"Hey Heather." I say to her.

She brushes some chestnut colored hair out of her face. "Hey Shimmer. Where's Aphrodite?"

"Oh she turned eighteen last week, remember?" I say dismissively.

"Oh, right. I wonder who got voted in. Maybe it was her."

"Aphy?" I snort. "Sure, she can shoot an arrow or whatever, but she's useless if someone jumps her. Even an idiot could see that."

Heather shrinks a bit, but says nothing else. Good. I like her better when she isn't talking. In fact, I feel that way about pretty much everyone. The video begins to play. No one is really watching, except for the twelve who don't get to watch many films. Sure, they'll see a few films of Hunger Games in years past to learn strategy, but nothing too gory. The images on here…gory even for my taste. An idea hits me while the video is still playing. Forget District 1! What if I married a man from the Capital? I love everything about that place, the gorgeous bright colors that just don't exist here, the fashions, the culture. It's like a glimmer of light in all the dark. It's like…hope.

Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea. I'm just mentally congratulating myself when Lucian steps onto the stage. "Welcome District 2! He beams. "As you know, this year is very special. This year, you voted who you wanted to send in"

A few people around me stand on their toes in excitement. Heather is one of them. She nudges my shoulder. I smile back at her, the less than friendly exchange just a few minutes ago is forgotten. A burst of excitement and adrenaline surges through me. This is it!

Lucian takes a piece of paper out of the pocket of his flawless green suit. He holds it up to the microphone. "Now, who's ready to hear the result?"

Cheers fill the crowd. People jump up and down and shout. Children wave their hands in the air. It's infectious. Heather bounces up and down and tugs on my arm.

"Lets start with our gentlemen, shall we?"

Boys stomp up and down and the ground shakes. They grunt and shout. Heather and I look at each other and laugh. They can be so ridiculous. It is a fight to the death, after all. They should be taking it more seriously.

"Julian Moretti!"

There is a pausing in the shouts. A boy walks hesitantly out of the seventeen year olds section, right next to Xavier. I don't even know the guy. He's just another trainee, blending into the background. Ah, that's right. He's the strange one. The one who is weak and prefers not to fight. He's wicked in strategy though, I've heard. But that won't get him too far. Quite honestly, I'm relieved. I may not even have to kill him. One less to worry about. And things would get too complicated if Xavier was chosen.

Still, something's not right. Why would people vote him in if he's so weak? Many look confused, especially the adults, standing in their roped off section. They cross their arms and frowns crease on their foreheads. Some grumble and mutter to each other. Yes, something's a little…off. Still, who am I to care? He walks up the stage, trying too hard to look indifferent. His mouth twitches.

"Get a load of this idiot." I mutter to Heather.

She shakes her head. "No competition, for sure."

I laugh to myself. Too easy. I wipe my palms, which are beginning to sweat. It's not because I'm nervous. No, I can't be nervous. I. Am. Not. Nervous. The sky hangs ominously, low and gray. I wish for rain. I want it to pour. Wash away my doubts and fears. Night rain, heavy but warm. Like the cloud's embrace.

"Shimmer Parker!"

My breath gets caught in my throat and I stumble, but I pick myself up before anyone can see. Head held high, I make my way out of the section. I can feel Heather touch my shoulder lightly and give me one last smile.

I don't bother returning it. I'm never going to see her again after this, probably. I'll live in the Capital, eating the fanciest foods and wearing the most expensive clothes. I'll be the very picture of what a victor should be. I put one step in front of another, making my steps as light as they can possibly be in combat boots. A few more steps, and I'm on the stage.

Once I'm staring at my district, in all its whites and grays, I let a smile come onto my lips. It can't be too big, it has to be just right. I make it look cold and without warmth. It's perfect.

"And now, our two tributes will shake hands!" Lucian purrs.

I stick my hand out to Julian and he gives me a look of disgust before taking it. Oh, what a tough guy he is! For God's sake, I don't even know him. But I will soon. Let's see what you can do, Julian. Maybe I will make a point to kill you after all. At least that way I won't have to see that horrible expression on your face anymore.

Lucian's voice rings out. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the 25th Annual Hunger Games begin!"

And then, it begins to pour.

**Julian Moretti's POV**

"Julian!" Her voice rings through the room, raw and high.

Nazri flings herself at me causing my legs to buckle. She wraps her arms around me, very , very tightly.

"Nazri." I whisper. "Nazri, it'll be okay."

"But it won't! Julian, I don't know how this could've happened. You were never the top person in training and it was plain to see that you never wanted to go to the Games in the first place!"

I try to pat her shoulder, but she jerks away. "Julian, what if you die?"

"I'm not going to die." I whisper. "I'm a Career, we don't die." I try to force a grin, but she frowns.

"Everyone dies." The words drip icily out of her mouth.

I sink into the couch that's been set out for me. The Justice Building is huge, bigger than any other building. In the back of my mind, I wish for this to speed up. It's hard enough already. I don't need a weeping girl next to me right now. In fact, I'd kind of like to be alone. Or maybe with my family. But I know they won't make this any better either. Reluctantly, I begin stroking Nazri's hair. Well, that seems to calm her. It would be so much easier of everyone was calmer.

"I'm not going to let them change me, you know."

"Good." She says plainly.

I smile a bit. "I'll still steer clear of fights and I won't do anything stupid."

"That's my Julian." She jerks her head around. "Here, take this, she whispers.

She presses so something into my hand. I look down. It's a…piece of fabric. It's kind of nice though, sort of random.

"It's from my skirt." She smiles. "I mean, I didn't have anything else prepared, so that's all." She pauses and rubs her neck nervously. "Your parents will probably give you something better, but you know, I still wanted to give a piece of me."

"I-It's great, Nazri. Thanks."

She shrugs. "You told me you liked it, so before I came up here I ripped a piece off."

And then, she's ushered out of the room. I catch a flash of red as her skirt swishes behind the wall and she shoots me one last look.

Then she's gone.

As soon as I have time to sink back into the couch, the door opens again. This time, my family piles into the room. My mother stares at the ground looking almost…ashamed. Why? My father just looks rather indifferent. Alexander is trying to do the same, but it isn't working. I can tell he's fighting back tears.

"Julian!" My mother finally breaks all restraint and rushes to embrace me. I stiffen, but try to pat her back. Her arms clutch tightly.

"Mira" My father says through clenched teeth. To be honest, I've never been a fan of the guy. In reality, he's Alexander's father, not mine. My real father is dead. He died two weeks before his nineteenth birthday. In the Hunger Games. But that was a long time ago, more than 17 years ago. The Training Center had only just been built and there really volunteers yet. He was actually reaped. He left my mother behind, pregnant with me. This man, Alexander Sr.. has been pushing me to redeem my family's honor since he married my mother.

I just don't think this is the right way to do it.

Evidently, my mother agrees.

She silently and obediently unfurls her arms, but wears a mask of sadness. Alexander shuffles his feet nervously. "Hey Julian, you're going to bring us honor, right?" He forces a smile.

I nod. "Of course Alexander. It's what I was born to do."

My mother gives a little whimper, but my stepfather pats my back roughly. "That's my boy!" He shouts. "You're going to make us proud."

"Y-Yes. I trust you'll do just that." It seems my mother has found her voice after all.

The man beams. Suddenly, he turns to my mother. "Mira, you told me you wanted to show him something?" He looks just as confused as I feel. My mother reaches into the pocket on the side of her skirt. She fumbles around for a moment, then fishes out a shining disk. She turns it over in her hand, while my stepfather looks over her shoulder, desperate to see what it is. He's just as confused as I am. She holds it out to me. It's a medal, sort of. A gold disk held on a chord of black leather. On the disk, the words _Bravery, Honor, Determination _repeat themselves over and over around the District 2 seal. I hold it in my palm, circling the cool metal between my fingers.

My mother gently touches my hair. "It was your birth father's. It was his token in his Games. It was meant to remind him what his district stood for. I hope it will do the same for you."

She meant what is used to stand for. What it's supposed to stand for. But that was a long time ago. I look up at her and nod. "It's perfect."

And it is. I don't think I've ever held something that belonged to my true father. He held this medallion in his hands once too. He wore it around his neck. He fought surrounded by its message of what to stand for, and he died with it too. I slip the chord around my neck. My mother gives me a slight smile, then stares at the floor. Alexander Sr. looks over at her, then at me. He wrings his hands. But for once in his life, he doesn't say anything at all.

Alexander walks up to me slowly, urged by our mother's gentle prodding. He looks up at me, his wide blue eyes filled with fear. "Don't do anything stupid, all right Julian?"

I let out a laugh. "Of course not, Xander."

He crosses his arms, then thinks for a moment, and slips a hand on my shoulder. "You can't separate brothers." His eyes are suddenly filled with cold seriousness. "Whatever happens in that arena, you're coming home, got it?" He lifts his hand off my shoulder and crosses his arm. "Swear to me, Julian."

I look at his eyes, clouded with cold worry. His jaw is set in a tense line. His back and neck are rigid. But he maintains his eye contact with me, waiting for his answer.

"Yeah, I-I promise."

**Shimmer Parker's POV**

God, this room is lonely.

The ornate red carpet itches my feet lightly as I move them back and forth. It's hot in here. And surprisingly stuffy. I want to get out of here. I want to go on the train to the Capital. I want to wear beautiful clothes and eat delicacies. And I want to hear the adoration of the crowds. I will win. I must win.

I cross my feet listlessly just as the door opens. In walk Heather and Aphrodite. Aphrodite wears a forced-looking smile, but Heather looks genuinely proud. Well, she should be. I will bring our district honor!

"Hey." Aphrodite says and gently sits next to me on the couch. "So you're really doing this." She whispers to herself.

I laugh. "Of course I am! The people voted. They know I can do this. " I sit up a little straighter. They chose me. Well, I won't let them down.

Aphy frowns. "It's just the Games aren't all fun and well, games. Shimmer, you have to prepare yourself to see some things that will haunt you the rest of your life." Her voice is flat and serious. Since when did she become so motherly? God, it's not like she has to protect me!

I cross my arms stubbornly and lean back into the couch. "Aphy, you worry too much. I'll be home before you know it. Or I might be living it up in the Capital."

"And I'll be happy for you then." She says softly.

"But don't get too cocky!" Heather shouts out.

Rolling my eyes, I let out a sigh. "Heather, have you seen my competition? It'll be scrawny, underfed runts who have never seen a weapon in their life."

Heather shifts uncomfortably. "But they were voted in this year."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand.

Aphy bites her lip. "I think what she means is that they were voted in for a reason. Their district probably thinks they have a chance at winning. That. or they're completely unhinged."

"Those are the most dangerous." Heather says, as if she knows everything there is to know.

I blow a piece of hair out of my face. "What do you know?"

Heather and Aphrodite exchange glances. I ignore them.

Eventually, Aphy stands up. "I think we'd better go. Your family will want to see you." She shrugs lightly.

I shrug back. "I guess so. It'll be strange though."

Heather smiles at me, evidently forgetting our exchange. "I hope you get a nice token."

Aphy smiles too. "Good luck, Shimmer."

They both leave, whispering to each other. Heather still looks excited

Rain pure down the window in sheets. It drips, making tracks down the windowpane. They blend and blur, running down. Like blood, almost. Why is everything suddenly reminding me of blood?

The door opens again. My brother is the first to enter the room, his hand resting on my mother's shoulder.

My father follows, staring at the ground, not making eye contact with anyone.

Stiffly, my mother takes a seat in a chair across from me. She folds her hands in her lap primly. "Well, it's nice and dry in here." She says matter-of-factly.

"I'm glad for the rain." I follow.

"Yes, you always did like the rain."

This is absurd. Here I am, about to enter the most pivotal moment of my life, and we're talking about the weather.

Brion stares out the window. "It's okay to be scared, you know."

Is he talking to me or to himself? "Brion, just because you're scared, doesn't mean I am." I retort.

He looks a little sad at that, but doesn't say anything. Good. Like I said, I like people quiet.

My father ests his hand on my knee. "If you're not scared then I won't be."

"It's about time!" I snap.

My father's blue eyes fill up with hurt. But he's too soft anyway. Leave it to his own daughter to toughen him up.

The Peacekeeper shifts. "One more minute." He says.

My mother perks up at this, grateful for something to break the horrible silence that has unfolded.

"How about your token, hmm?" She chirps a little too eagerly.

It's a gold locket, in the shape of a dagger. It glimmers from its strand. My mother gently places it around my neck. "I thought you'd like it." She whispers.

"Yes, I do. It-Its really nice." I stammer. Where'd she get such a perfect gift? How did she know?

My mother swallows quickly. "Your father bought it."

I know I'm supposed to say thank you, but I don't. I don't know why. I just don't.

We sit in silence for just a little while longer and before I know it, the room is empty again. I think I here my mother call out "I love you" as she turns the corner. But I don't say anything back. It's been too long since I last said "I love you" to anyone. And maybe I should distance myself from them. What have they ever done for me?

But I don't know. Maybe I should have said "thank you" when I got the chance.

**A/N And that concludes the D2 Reapings. Thanks for reading and hopefully reviewing. **

**Trivia Question: How many siblings does Peeta have?**

**As for the One-Shot contest, make sure to submit by PM.**

**Tribute spots are all full! **


	5. D3: The Unusual and The Desperate

**A/N Thanks to the always awesome RandomAngel123 for submitting Aya. You give her such complexity. Also thanks to the super nice Doc95 for Jace, who's a pretty interesting guy. Go read her stories. Now. They're amazing. Now there will be no more "Careers," but I think you'll find the Career mindset showing up in some pretty surprising places as this story progresses.**

**Jace Ignis's POV**

There is a time, just before you wake up, when it seems anything is possible.

When you're hovering in that pale gray between cold reality and warm dreaming and you don't have a single fear of what's ahead. You just stare out your window at the dawn's fingertips. The stars still are suspended above, twinkling into the new morning. The moon hangs steadfast, unwilling to give into the rays of sun inching above the horizon. Just as you are unwilling to give into your ordinary, mediocre life.

I am in that time right now. The sheets crinkle around me. Thin sheets for poor, unwanted kids. When I was little, I wished for a quilt. Something warm to wrap me in. Not a mother, no. Strange as it seems, I can't even remember the last time I stared out of the window, dreaming for my parents to take me home. They're gone. My mother died ten months after my birth to a vicious, but sudden influenza and my father died of a freak brain aneurysm shortly after my mother became pregnant in the first place.

So if you're hoping for some kind of well of hate for my parents abandoning me or me being mute from post-traumatic stress disorder from watching them getting murdered or something, not the case. I hear a lot of sob stories here at the orphanage. Boys and girls no more than six coming in covered in bruises and cigarette burns, taken away from "unfit parents." Kids from alcoholic daddies and absent mothers. Kids who cry all the time from watching their parents get murdered or killed in some terrible accident. There are the morphine babies, as we call 'em. The fetal alcohol syndrome kids, left on the doorstep with all their deformities. My story is, in other words, utterly unexciting.

Most of those little kids here spend their time in the hours of the dawn wishing for someone to rescue them. Even the teenagers and ones my age dream of their parents. Heroes, killed unjustly. Or perhaps other parents to adopt, far better than their own terrible ones. Awaiting perfect parents and a kind of love that will never come.

But I spend my time thinking of Clarisse Luna Waters.

Such a pretty name. In this district, you just don't get such names. They're rare and beautiful, little drops of gems. Just like her. Here, the names are practical and technology oriented. Just like the people. Pixel. Data. Techa. Beta. Over and over again, the same names repeat themselves. At the orphanage alone, we have three Pixels, four Datas, five Techas and four Betas. There is only one Clarisse.

She truly is as her name is. She has long silver blond hair, down to her waist. It's woven into a braid by her nimble fingers. Bright, shining pale green eyes. Like the sea. I've never seen the sea. She is small, fluttering like a hummingbird. Laughing into the sun.

Here most are so different. The girls are flat, emotionless rocks. Brown hair pulled back, so practically. Such common brown eyes with no light. They don't flirter like hummingbirds or really laugh at all.

And I need laughter. I need Clarisse's smiles because my own dull life is so lacking in joy. Everyone's here is.

I am repeating yesterday's moment in my head over and over again. Another lunch, dense tesserae bread and thin beef soup, but so, so extraordinary. She talked to me. Actually sat down and smiled.

"So Jace, what do you think you'll be doing when you get out of here?"

She said this so casually, as if we talked together all of the time. Of course I'd told her I'd be a Researcher. I'm going to be the mind behind all the new Capital technology. I asked her. Even though I already knew the answer. While I want to be a Researcher for technology, she wants to be a Researcher for medicine. She left after just asking me that, to go do her homework.

One day, I'll build up the courage to ask her if she wants any help with it.

With this in mind, I struggle out of bed and get myself untwisted from the sheet. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and trudge over to the bathroom. There must be a God in heaven after all, because I'm the only guy in it. Usually, it's crowded full of guys shouting and pushing each other around. Or guys brooding. You can always tell the new ones apart. I'm elbow to elbow with some little kid who forgets to brush his teeth, or squished against Albert Mac, the biggest kid here. HE's even bigger than me, and that is something to say.

Let's just say I stick out a little in this "stature-impaired" place.

First off, nobody here has an ounce of muscle. I try and lift weights every day. Now, there aren't any weights around this place, that's for sure. But I lift the sacks of flour and heavy boxes and anything else that weighs too much for anyone else around here to carry. Which isn't saying much. Now, don't you dare start thinking I'm not smart just because I can lift one hundred pounds. No, I live in District 3, don't I? Everyone here is smart.

And I love numbers. They offer a sense of security unlike any other. They're predictable. They don't change.

So after I'm done brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I open a falling apart math book.

The room is empty, the perfect place. Usually, this room I'm in right now has three other young men my age in it, making four of us, despite the fact that the room was only meant for one. The beds are crammed next to each other so close I can always smell Cable's breath. None too pleasant. Oh, and Albert's feet. None too livable.

Cable talks too much, rattling on and on about some newfound knowledge. Facts I already know. Albert doesn't talk enough. Isaac stares at my back all day, making me thoroughly uncomfortable. Darwin laughs too loudly. Altogether, it is impossible to get anything done with them around.

I place my head in my palms and think about Zeno's paradox. Imagine never reaching the finishing point. And yet, you kept on moving. You just weren't really going anywhere, after a while.

A bell rings downstairs. The other guys must have cleared out of here, hoping to be first to get breakfast. How primitive.

I slowly stand up. I was just getting into the right state of mind. It would be a shame to abandon my work now. I stare back at the book as I cross the cracked linoleum floor. Pages spilled open, pure and white. Black numbers dotting across in neat little rows. So clean and good. the way everything should be.

But it isn't.

And so, you've just got to learn to adapt. And adapt I have. I'm not boy. I haven't been one for a long time. Eighteen years is enough time on Earth to know that it's a terrible place. Ever since I was twelve, I've slept with a knife under my bed. I got it from a vendor at the Square. Every district has a Square with vendors and all of that. Ours is surrounded by huge, steel buildings. There's a lot of white and chrome. Anyway, I got it from a stall selling pocket knives. It stays right under my pillow. Over the years, I've grown pretty good at handling it. I can throw it like one of those Careers. Well, nearly. But it serves as another reminder. Keep adapting. Keep moving forward. And one day, I'm going to get to that finish line.

I shut the door gently behind me. The hall is very narrow and I've been able to put my hands on both sides since I was about nine. The floor is covered in stained, thinning cheap carpet. The walls are covered in peeling paint and hand imprints. While turning a sharp corner to head down the rickety stairs, I almost run into Blind Techa. It's not a very polite nickname, but with all the "Techas" around, we remember in any way we can. There are two seven year old Techas and she's one of them, so it's nothing personal. She doesn't mind.

"Oh, sorry Jace." She giggles.

She can tell it's me because of my build. She's pretty clever.

"My fault." I mumble and pat her head lightly. You know, I've always had a liking for little kids. I know Clarisse feels the same. She'd make a great mother. We're both eighteen, so we'll have to marry soon. I think about this as I head down the stairs. In the floor below, kids run everywhere. They weave in and out. Older kids whisper in groups, sheltering their conversations from the little ones. The Games are a taboo here and almost everywhere. No one talks about them and will do anything they can to prevent young ones from wandering in during the mandatory screenings. I think most find out when they're about ten, depending on whether or not you have older siblings. I've lived in a house full of about twenty of them my whole life, so I found out earlier than most.

In the Mess Hall, as we call it, breakfast is still being dished out. The woman serving it spoons some mush on my plate and waves me away. I look around for Clarisse. Maybe we can sit together. As long as I've been living here, I don't think anyone has ever sat with me. At least, not on purpose. But she will.

I don't see her blond braid anywhere, though.

Sighing softly, I pull out a chair and begin my own solitary meal. No matter. What others think of me is just trivial. It happens at school too. I am different. But I will be out of there shortly, so it certainly matters nothing. I tap the spoon against the dish. Now, what are the odds of getting voted in?

I can usually calculate things like this pretty easily. District 3 is slightly larger than most, with about 2,000 children of Reaping age. So, 1 in 2,000. Than, factor in tesserae. All children at the orphanage of the age, about twenty in all in this one, take tesserae. It's only the minimum amount. Still, the odds decrease significantly at just this orphanage alone, because so many take tesserae.

But it is different this year. Now, the numbers mean nothing. Tesserae wasn't issued at all this year. We're just surviving on some we kept in a back pantry. But the whole country felt relief last weekend when tesserae for next year could be taken. I can't factor in any odds or anything. Because this year, it's all psychology. And I'm no good at that. Well, who would I vote for? Maybe if I put myself in their shoes...

I did vote, of course. I had to. I voted for Data, a girl at the orphanage, about twelve. She has fetal alcohol syndrome and a limp. Absolutely no one would ever vote for her. That just seemed the logical thing to do.

Did everyone else think the same way? Or did they vote for someone they genuinely despise?

That just renders the whole thing impossible to solve. I huff in frustration and set my spoon on top of my empty dish. No math to calm me down today.

Oh, well. This is my last one. After this, I'll be an adult. I'll live a good, happy life. Hopefully with Clarisse.

I have to go find her before the Reaping. Now, I know she won't be voted in. But…what if I am?

I don't know what I'll say to her. Should I just start a casual conversation? Now wait, we've known each other most of our lives. We just haven't talked all that much. I never noticed her and she never noticed me. I only started paying attention to her about a year ago. When I realized how special she was. But we've seen each other many times. Had countless meaningless conversations. It's time we had something…real. And I have to talk to someone. I don't think I've ever just talked, really talked, to anyone.

It's easy to stack my dish up and walk back into the hallway. And it's easy to rest against the wall near the Visiting Room and listen through the thin wall. A potential adoption. That's what the room is for. For potential parents to see their kid. But background checks are never made. Anyone can walk away with a kid. The reason for that is hardly anyone wants to adopt. Ever. I put my hands into my pockets and stare at my scuffed old running shoes. Discarded and sent here, already tearing. But I loved them as soon as I laid eyes on them. That was three years ago. They got to pinch a little, but I finally stopped growing almost a year ago, so they're fine. Clarisse never walks down the stairs or through the hall.

Maybe she went to the Square with her friends. Went early to catch up with all their school friends. Didn't want to wait in any lines. Wanted some fresh air. Yes, that's why. She's already gone.

I feel some relief inwardly. Now I won't have to confront my fear. But I am sad. Will I ever get to talk to her before the Ceremony begins? Frustrated, with myself and with the world, I cross my arms and walk out of the stuffy, cramped space.

Outside, the air is warm. It's muggy and not refreshing at all. Winter is cold here, but summer's heat is brutal. And right now, it feels like summer is beginning. That's Clarisse's favorite season. She told me when we were eight years old. I still remember. I can remember almost all the time we've talked. Mostly because there aren't that many.

Among the "non-Career" districts, 3 is the second most well-off. We don't live in shacks like in Eleven, or do the dirtiest work of all, like Ten, or risk getting killed at our job, like Twelve. There aren't any toxic chemicals in the air, like in Five. The research and work we do doesn't let out a lot of waste or anything like that. There isn't the smell of oil and gas in the air, like in Six. None of Nine's starving children despite their industry being bread, none of Eight's inhuman living conditions, or Seven's harshness. No, we're mild mannered, intelligent people who meet all our quotas and do as we're told.

We're among the last you would think to harbor rebels, but yet, we do. And we have so many. The young men my age and younger at the orphanage know all their groups and what they stand for. Galileo, though only twelve, is part of the Rebel Runners, who run messages to people across the district and even other districts about possible ideas for strikes. Albert is part of the Justice Union, they're the ones making the plans for strikes. Strikes that never happen, but one day, we'll have one of them most well-thought out, organized strikes you'll ever see. And strange Isaac is part of the Freedom Fighters, who stockpile any weapons they can for the cause. I have no idea where they keep all these weapons. I am not part of any of these things. To be honest, the Capital just seems so far off and distant.

I'm not starving, they weren't the ones who killed my parents,s o I don't spend to much time stewing in my hatred for them. But everyone hates the Games. Once again though, they're distant. I don't have friends or family, so no one I know has been sentenced to iminate death. Though, I pity the ones that are. I'm not heartless. I just don't want to risk my life.

I cross street after street lined with apartments and huge buildings filled with labs. Where I'm going to begin my work come September. At least, learn some things before that, but I'll still be up in those labs. I smile to myself. Yes, I have plans. Mark my words, I will be someone someday. Successful, hardworking and a good husband and father. The perfect one. And perhaps then I won't have to sleep with a knife under my head anymore.

Already, throngs of kids are crowded everywhere.

They don't call it to each other or talk loudly, though. They walk silently, with their heads down.

Ashamed of what they've done, perhaps?

It is terrible. So terrible. If they person you voted for gets in, you will have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life. Was it your vote that killed them? It truly was a horrible Quell idea. But no doubt, affective in portraying the power these people have.

"To show that even those you think you can trust will turn their backs on you."

That is what it was designed to do.

It ended up turning every district into chaos.

Some hold hands. Parents rest their hands on their children's shoulders. I want that. I want that kind of love. I wish more than anything right now to have Clarisse's hand locked in mine. Safe together. Holding on to each other. Because when we're together, everything else seems okay. We'll both be all right. We'll make it through this, as long as we have each other…

But we don't. Not yet.

We will though. Yes, I have decided that, if anything, this Reaping has convinced me. I'm going to do it. And it's not going to be something small. No offering to help her with her homework or asking her to sit with me at lunch or sitting next to her at school. No, I'm going to ask her on a date. We can go to the only green spot in the district, the forest on its outskirts. It's a strange, but a beautiful place. Surrounded by trees and near a small lake, yet buildings loom in the distance and a huge fence encases you. And yet, I feel the freest there. It's an excellent place for me to practice with my knife without worrying about impaling some poor kid at the cramped and overcrowded orphanage. We can take a walk there. Maybe even admire a sunset. I know a lot about the stars. I could show her the constellations.

Perhaps we could even talk of numbers, something I know she enjoys as much as I. We'd dismiss the Paradox. Of course, by taking small steps, we'd reach the finish line. Unlike whatever object is affected by that thing. We'd reach our happiness.

"Name."

Harsh and cold, the word breaks my bright thoughts in a slice of gray. A woman sits at the table with a needle, impatient and tired. A piece of paper sits below my hand, waiting for my smear of blood. To check that ti's me. I registered and I came. I didn't run. I look up and the buildings above me. Tall and purest white, they touch the sky. Blocking the sun. Everywhere. There is nowhere to run.

"Any day now." The woman huffs. The people standing behind me bristle in impatience and annoyance.

"Oh, yeah. sorry." I mutter. My face flushes. Thank God she can't see me now.

"Jace Ignis." I say softly.

She jabs my finger, presses it down and sends me away.

I curl the smarting finger into my fist. Lost, I stare around at the crowd. There are people of all ages everywhere. Where is my section? Where do I go?I blink a few times. The sun is too bright. Squinting, I look up again. I'm in a space between buildings. That's why. Now I realize how much I prefer the shade. Shoes scuffle and race around me. I stare down at my own. Dirt covered.

"Hey, Jace?"

Cable stands, leaning over a rope. Behind him, other boys I know from school crowd behind. Cable is a popular guy at the school. Way arrogant.

He grins at me. "Are you just going to stand there at stare? Get over here, it's about to start."

I look wildly around, considering my options. But there doesn't seem like any other way to get over there. And now, there are less people around me. They have found there sections, whispered quiet hellos to friends, and are anxiously awaiting the ceremony's start. Sighing, I turn on my heel and over to where a crowd of young men are whispering and laughing loudly. Like I said, young men, not boys. So why are they acting like it?

I climb over the rope and don't say a word. The others part, also wordlessly, to let me through. Well, I am pretty intimidating. Especially to these weaklings. Even the eldest is no more than 5'6 or so. Poor diet, perhaps? Meat is a rarity here and when it comes, it's thinned and a cheap, chemical-ridden version of the real thing.

So we stand wordlessly while the video plays. Gory pictures. Fires. Same old, same old. I just try to find Clarisse. Craning my neck, I look across my section to where the girls are standing. A crowd of brown hair shuffling and whispering to each other. Guys don't whisper. I'm not too sure why, it's just not something we do. But they're whispering up a storm. Well, they have a lot to whisper about. Who was unfortunate enough to get chosen?

And then, a spot of blond.

Clarisse! She;s standing over with a friend, their heads bent in conversation. How odd to not see her laughing. But this is the one day when no one can laugh. There are small celebrations after the ceremony because you were lucky. But two families out there will have dark windows in their apartment. Because their loved ones aren't coming home.

I stand a little higher. Without even thinking, I offer her a wave.

And then…she smiles. Smiles! Clarisse points to the escort's outfit. What is her name? Ah, that's right. Lula Flare. Not as ridiculous as many of those Capital names, but still out there. Anyway, Lula is wearing a bright pink blazer on top of a matching bright pink skirt. Her hair is up in an enormous bun with little butterfly clips literally fluttering.

"Hilarious." Clarisse mouths over to me.

I smile back at her. I try to keep it casual, but it probably looks as wide as the sea.

Oh, cool it Jace. You two have known each other for a long time. It's no big deal.

No matter. She's already turned around.

But I did get a split second of joy in this dismal day.

And the odds of that happening were almost zero.

**Aya Brow's POV**

These bathroom tiles are so cold.

I do a little dance on my toes to avoid them. It doesn't work, but it gets my toes moving. I run my arms quickly up and down my skinny, goose-bump covered arms.

My nightgown swishes around my bare legs. It's too childish. I used to love this nightgown, but now I grow tired of its presence. And impracticality. Long sleeves would be ideal. Still, I like short sleeves well enough. It's just that this nightgown and I have spent too much time together.

I turn on the water and fill the little cup with it. Now for the pill. One swallow and done. Pills are easy. There's no terrible taste or sharp pain of a needle. There are the side effects, though. It's never been anything too major. These are very weak medications, after all. the really strong stuff is way out of my family's reach.

And of course, plants from the apothecary.

You'd think, in a place specializing in science, we wouldn't get medicine from an _apothecary. _But hey, we mean nothing to those Capital people. Just people who give them all their pretty little gadgets and know how to make all their small pains vanish with the swallow of a pill or the spread of a cream. I bet they don't even know what it's like to be sick.

Really sick. Like me.

I stare in the reflection of the mirror. Spotless. Like everything else in this apartment. My mother is big on keeping those germs away. Hah! Like some little germs could really hurt me. I've got a disease completely closing off my lungs. But you know, whatever makes her happy.

The girl in the mirror looks defeated. Short, curly light brown hair flying out in all directions. She has tan skin, but yet it's pale. Dark circles rest under her empty brown eyes. And she is tiny.

My collarbones jut out and so do my hipbones. I can count all my ribs. I'm maybe 4'10, weighing in at eighty pounds, maybe eighty-five. Too thin.

Another complication of the disease, besides not being able to breathe for half the time, is stature. The woman at the apothecary said that herself. Her name is Lyra. I know because I've been seeing her since I was no more than two. She's the one who taught my mother how to do the back pounding thing. It's to loosen all that lovely old mucus in my lungs. She's the one who gives my mother a new kind of tea or plant concoction to try on me seemingly all the time we come there.

In fact, when I walk across the hall, my mother is pouring some strong-smelling tea for me.

And so it begins.

Ross pulls a chair out for me. I sit gingerly in it, all the while staring at him. What, just because I'm going to die a slow death very soon, suddenly everyone likes me? Is this really the same guy who used to build pillow forts with me, lifted me up and threw me over his back even though I hated it? He used to be so awful to me! Every time I got into a coughing fit, he'd pound me on the back.

"Aw, come on, Aya. Toughen up." He'd say. "It's not that bad."

That's what he did. He toughened me up.

It's strange, but we both found out about my fate at the same time, despite our age difference. It was on another visit with Lyra. She said she'd been doing some searching. And she found that no one can make it through their teenage years with the illness.

So I'm going to die. And I'm going to die soon.

I stare at the tea in front of me, a murky green color. When my mother has her back turned, I make the most disgusted looking face I can at it, including cross eyes. Ross practically snorts his milk out of his nose from laughter.

My mother whirls around, her hand on her hip. "Aya." She says exasperatedly. "That tea will make you better."

"That tea will make you better." I repeat it in what I know to be a perfect imitation of my mother's voice. The clipped tone, with an undertone of command. But I sip it anyway.

Hmm. Not as bad as the last one. You couldn't have convinced me that one didn't contain some kind of urine.

When I'm done with that, my mother sighs and goes to her room. To get ready, I suppose, for the Reaping.

Ross turns to me. "Aren't you going to get ready?"

I stare at my empty cup. I don't want to go. More than anything. A deep, black, feeling of dread has already taken root in me.

"Well?" He demands.

"Oh, well, yes." I say lightly to him. "Just not quite yet."

He shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Suddenly, I am desperate to talk. I'll say anything, to anyone. I just want the black silence to go away.

"So how is your work, Ross?"

He looks at me funnily. Since he left school for work, we haven't talked all that much. He's twenty now. And there's something strange to me about talking to a twenty year old. We used to be so much closer. Some days, I swear he's distancing himself on purpose. I don't mind, I suppose. I'd do the same thing.

"It's all right. You know, the uniform is so white and the walls are so white and it's all kind of strange. The lab, I mean."

"Oh, I see." Almost all the people here work in labs. Take my mother, for example. She's some kind of Researcher, though I don't know the specifics. She works on different technology to alter appearance. She's always made enough for us to live comfortably. We live in an ordinary, stark white and chrome apartment building with a nice lobby area. We've got a stove and a separate eating area with a few windows. Windows are a sign that things are going well with your family. At least, you aren't dirt poor. But now that Ross has his own work, I'm pretty much guaranteed not to have to take tesserae. Not that it mattered this year.

"How is Cilia?"

He blushes slightly at the mention of this. "She's making furious plans. For the wedding and all that, even though all the weddings here are the same. She told me she found a nice, cozy little apartment that she wants me to come check out with her tomorrow."

That's right. I'm going to miss their wedding.

Perhaps you wondered why I sounded so certain saying this. That's because I know I got voted in. The feeling pulses through me. My gut twists with every thought of it. There is no worse feeling than knowing that something terrible is about to happen. And I know.

Why?

Because I voted myself in.

It was impulsive. Maybe even stupid. But not compared to what I did next. The boy in line right after me to cast his vote, who I didn't know, I told him to vote for me too. I had a terminal illness, I said. It would be the right thing to do. I'm going to die anyway, I told him. And everyone in line heard.

In District 3, the citizens are rational. So to them, it would make perfect sense to vote in a terminally ill child because she's taking the place of someone with the potential to live much longer. See? Logic. But I didn't have to vote for myself? Why would I do that? Maybe it was because it was just too hard to pick a name. I could've picked a random name. Some kid who I brushed by in the hallway. I couldn't though. I'd feel that guilt that they could have grown up, gotten married and led a life. And I robbed them of it.

The crawling, twisting deep brownish green of guilt is even worse than the solid, unmoving knowing I have.

Ross stacks the plates. The sound seems so distant. I've wandered too far into my own thoughts again. Without even noticing at first, I begin to cough.

"You okay?" Ross asks softly.

I nod through a particularly mucus-y one.

"Nice one!" He shouts out, just like he used to.

I finally stop coughing and shoot him a grin. I can only hope it looks real.

"You know." Ross says, suddenly very thoughtful, "You know, people used to get married when they were a lot older."

I play absentmindedly with my cup. "Yeah, so? People lived longer then. We learned about that in school. People thought that in the future, people would live a lot longer than they did, but boy, were they wrong. Now we don't have any real medicine, at least, unless you live…you know where."

"You know which district they live the shortest in?"

"No." I respond. "Maybe…Eleven or Twelve?"

"Actually, it's Five." He says, matter-of-factly.

"Five? But everyone knows they're starving in Twelve."

Ross shrugs and takes my cup from me. "True, they're the second most. But Five is way overcrowded and it's actually really poor. Oh, and all that radiation can't be good. Almost one-third of their citizens develop some kind of cancer."

"That's awful. I don't normally think about Five like that." I pause. "Or at all, really."

Ross laughs quietly. "Yeah, no one does."

I put my face in my hands. I don't want to go. Why do I have to go? Well, the answer is simple. I was too angry to think straight. My mother and I had just gotten into a huge fight about…well, everything, I suppose.

She was giving me one of the "back poundings" and I began to cry. I guess I was just sick of being sick.

"Aya, stop crying!" She said in that exasperated tone of hers. "Try to brave for once!" She snapped at me.

And then, I lost it. I screamed that I was trying to be brave. That I wasn't afraid of death. That's when I stormed out of the house to vote. For myself. I thought maybe then she'd feel guilty.

"Hey, Ross." I say tentatively. "What was mom like before dad died?"

Ross looks up from the plate he's washing. "The same, I suppose. Only, less careful about everything. She really started after we found out about your…."

"Oh, okay." I say quickly, cutting him off.

He looks over at the clock. "You'd better get going!"

I jump up when I see the time. Running out of the room, I realize that I'm still in my nightgown! I've got to change. The black feeling, sometimes distracted by conversation, is steadily returning.

"Hey." Ross says, stopping me at the doorway.

"We should talk more, you and me, Rabbit."

I wiggle my nose in a response for his petname for me. It is actually my father's petname because when I was a baby, I used to wiggle my nose all the time. I give him a little smile before turning the corner of my room.

But inside, I am so, so sad. Because now, the guilt has set in. I thought I was preventing that feeling, by voting myself in. I thought I was so brave. All I'm doing now, though, is giving my family pain. My mother has already lost her husband, why should she lose her daughter like this? Am I that cruel? But it's the disease that is cruel! I will lose my life to it eventually. But losing it like this….this is so, so terrible. What have I done?

Maybe it won't happen. How much of a difference could two or three votes make? I will be fine.

I will be fine.

Slowly, I peel my nightgown off. Hot air has begun to circulate around the room. I put on my skirt, my absolute favorite piece of clothing. It's pure white, with a lacy flower pattern at the bottom. It looks good against my tan skin. Above that I slip on a sky blue sleeveless shirt. Not like the sky today. It just stopped raining, in fact. Well, I suppose it's fitting.

Though I'd give anything for a beautiful, blue sky right now.

I slip on some white sandals and walk to the bathroom to brush out the tangled mess that is my hair. The repetition of the brush is slightly calming. See? I can do a normal thing on an anything but normal day, can't I? The brownish blond hair of mine is still too short to put back, but that's all right. Knowing my mother, before I leave to my roped-off section, she'll make sure every hair is in place.

"Aya?"

Her voice floats down the hallway. Soft and tentative, so unlike her usual self. It's a question. Am I ready to come? Not like her usual demand. She wants to know if I can do this. But I've done it twice before. It's just a little different this year. She has no idea. Or perhaps…she does. The rationale of the citizens here…she might have put two and two together. They'd vote for me because I'm going to die anyway. It would be far better for me to take the place of an innocent child who would otherwise be torn from life.

Who knows?

Maybe she has the deep dark black knowing I have too.

I walk down the hall to where she is standing, dressed in a long, gray skirt with a long-sleeved white shirt. I vaguely wonder if she will be too warm But the rain may have cooled the air a bit. She stares me up and down. I clasp my hands in front of me.

"You look fine Aya." She laughs.

I smile tightly.

My mother rests her hand on my shoulder, almost protectively. "All right, we'd best be going."

"Wait!" I shout.

My mouther's brow furrows in confusion and Ross almost drops the hairbrush he's using.

"Can Ross come too?" I ask hesitantly.

He wrinkles his nose slightly in confusion, at first, but then his face clears. "Sure Rabbit, I'll come. I don't have anything else today and I'm sick of apartment tours."

And so we walk out, the three of us.

As we walk down the wide, crowded streets, I feel a childlike urge to grab my mother's hand. I force myself to look up instead. The tops of building circle above, looking down. Maybe I'm a little crazy, but they look…almost sad.

What have I done?

All too soon, the time to check in arrives. Ross watches as I get my hand pricked. But I don't wince in the slightest. I've had plenty of needles going through me. You get used to it.

Hey, at least there won't be any more needles after this, right?

Oh, Aya, stop thinking like that. That's terrible.

I clench my hands into fists and walk stiffly over to where the fourteen year old girls stand. I just turned fourteen a little over a week ago. So I might just be the youngest. A few nod at me, but it's fair to say that many of them don't even know me. I miss a lot of school because of the illness.

Not to say I don't have friends. I wish I could have seen Matt today. Reaping Day is for families. If I am voted in, I will see him at the goodbyes only. I wish more than anything I could have seen him one last time. Just to have a normal, casual conversation. Just the two of us.

Matt lives in the apartment next door and we literally grew up together. He doesn't see me as a sick, scrawny little girl. Maybe he's the only one.

When we were eight or nine years old, we announced to each other that we had "crushes" on each other. It's silly, but we've been a couple ever since. Well, as much of a couple as you can get in the eighth grade. We're closer though. We can tell each other everything. It doesn't matter that he's a guy and I'm a girl or that he's one year older than me. Already fifteen. We see each other every day, or near that.

Oh, and we don't believe in the phrase "people who really like each other will fight." It's been years since our last fight.

He's the best friend I've ever had.

I think about him, forcing all the happy memories we've shared to come to mind while the escort is giving his speech. The district's only victor, a young man named Gally, shifts in his seat and moves his eyes everywhere.

He looks as scared as I feel.

"Gentlemen first!"

Why can't I remember the escort's name? Maybe worse memory is just another side effect…

"Jace Ignis!"

An enormous wall walks out of the eighteen year old boy section. He weighs at least twice as much as me. It's surprising that he can move so quickly.

What did he do to deserve this?

Probably typical Three logic. Send in one who will die, you have to send one who may win.

And then, it happens. I don't even notice the escort reading the second slip.

"Aya Brow!"

**Jace Ignis's POV**

She will come.

Yes, I've been waiting here a little while. But it'll be worth it.

We've known each other for so long. There's no way she wouldn't come to say goodbye. And it's so, so lonely in here. I want to be with someone. To talk to someone. I have never been someone who likes to talk. Never. And perhaps it would be best to sit in silence and think and reflect. Or even plan for the days to come. There must be some way I can win. right? I'm clever and…strong. I suppose. I could do it.

But I don't want to plan. I want to talk to someone. To share an embrace with someone. Or maybe even a kiss. How terrible would it be to die at eighteen and still not have been kissed? And of anyone, it should be her. She'd probably feel like the sun, warm and radiant.

And maybe beneath her radiant thoughts, my footsteps will echo loudly.

I fold my hands in my lap. The Justice Center here is all stark white and chrome, like everything else in this place. Sunlight peers through the gray clouds that just recently dripped rain. It reflects off all the windows. I've always loved this building, intimidating, but so bright. I'd never been inside. It's just the same as the outside. What it needs is personality to fill it.

The couch is threadbare. It's the only piece of furniture in here, besides a (surprise, surprise) chrome desk.

I miss her. I want her hear more than anything else. A deep, velvet red longing. Clarisse.

Did I mention how beautiful a name that is?

Take a breath, Jace. Think of…numbers. Yeah, numbers. That always gets me calm. Okay, count the tiles. Twelve tiles length, fourteen width.

How long is the room? My guess is…sixteen feet long. So if the first step I take is a foot and half long and the next is half and the next one is half and so on and so forth…

Id' never reach the end.

Never getting further.

Just like now.

I burst up from the seat, my knuckles white from clenching my hands so tightly. I stride over to the window and rest my hands on the sill. My fingernails scratch away at the gray paint. She's not down there. I don't see her coming. Why don't I see her? Where is she?

"Are you expecting someone?"

The Peacekeeper at the door looks stiff and uncomfortable at his assignment. He shifts the gun in his hand a bit as he says this. Why do people decide to become Peacekeepers? I hear that most are from Two. Raised with a "fighter" mindset. Sometimes I feel I might belong there even better.

If, of course, I was an idiot lapdog to the Capital with a death wish.

He clears his throat, flaring his nostrils beneath ice cold blue eyes.

"Oh, well yes, I am expecting someone." I say plainly.

"Ah, I see." He says coldly. "Well, you haven't got too much time left for Goodbyes, so she'd better hurry."

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. "She'll be here." I manage to mutter.

All the while, I'm staring out the dust covered window. Nothing.

I go back to my seat. I walk slowly. Every step is painful. Every move I make hurts, but no part deeper than in my chest. Slowly, so slowly, I sink back into the couch. I return to my same position, hands folded in my lap. Maybe if I just go back to thinking about numbers…

There is silence. But then, suddenly,

"Awfully hard to die alone." The Peacekeeper says gruffly.

"W-what?" I splutter.

"You're an orphan." He shrugs. "I was one too. Pretty hard to be alone."

There is another moment of silence, hanging heavily in the room's still air.

"Well, there is this girl." I say. "She's my, well, I'm not sure what. But she's gotten me through it. I thought…."

"What?" He demands sharply.

"I just thought we'd be married one day."

"Mmmm…" He nods.

I bury my head in my hands. Oh, Clarisse. Why aren't you here with me? We shared something, just moments ago. We shared a smile. And I thought, I thought that we shared something more. Love, maybe? That moment when you smiled, could you not feel that too? You had to have! It was so simple. Oh Clarisse, just open your mind a little bit. Let me into your heart. You've been in mine for so long now. I just need a little more time. Just a little more! That's all it would have taken for you to be mine. That's all it would have taken for both of us to become truly happy. We would reach our destination, one day, you and me. Me and you.

But now there can't be an "us." Unless I fight like I've ever fought before. But the Games have torn us apart. I will never be with my Clarisse.

Never is the worst word there is.

I move my fingers up onto my face and bury them into my hair. A choppy haircut. I've been doing my own since I was, maybe, thirteen. I've never done a very good job of it. Maybe one of those Capital stylist can fix it up. And Clarisse can see me, looking so handsome…

"Boy?" The Peacekeeper interrupts me roughly. "Time's up."

Time's up.

I look around the cold, cold room. The dust plays in little patterns beneath the window sill. And beneath that, people crowd the streets. Going home. Still together. A word I will never know.

Time's up.

And still, she hasn't come.

**Aya Brow's POV**

The door bursts open.

Matt runs in. Right on his heels is Benjamin, his best friend.

Matt stops abruptly near me. I can tell that he doesn't know what to do. Should he sit on the couch and comfort me? Stand up and reprimand me? Sink down and sob?

He decides to sit in the chair in front of me and bury his head in his hands.

Benjamin stands behind, wringing his hands and looking lost. He looks up at me, his warm brown eyes welling with tears and hurt.

Where's the Benny I know? The confident boy who beats all of us in running? The boy who always has a joke or an absolutely hilarious side comment?

"Hey, Aya." He mutters.

"Hey Benny."

"Matt and I…we think they voted in because of your illness. They thought you' die anyway!"

I shift nervously on the chair and tuck my hands beneath me. "I know." I say softly.

"Well, you have to prove them wrong!" Matt suddenly shouts out. He raises his head out of his hands.

Benjamin nods fiercely. "You can do it, Aya. You're really fast."

Matt looks over at his friend gratefully. Thanking him for saying something positive. A lifeline, not just for me.

"Just run, Aya." Matt tells me. "Don't look back and just run."

"Will do."

Suddenly, Matt gets up from where he's sitting and pulls me into an embrace. "That's my girl." He whispers into my ear.

I just lean my head into his shoulder. Am I now the "brave martyr"? A terminally ill person sacrificing herself so other can get the chance to live? It seems right now, pity is all I can get.

Red seeps into my cheeks. I cough a little bit.

Matt uncurls his arms almost instantly. "You okay?"

I frown. "Matt, you never used to ask if I was okay."

He looks at the ground. My cheeks get even redder. Benjamin looks at the narrow window and tries to avoid eye contact between either of us.

"Hey Benny." I blurt out for the second time.

"Yeah?" He syas softly.

"Remember that time when I was, like, seven and I was too sick to run the race in gym class?"

He smiles. The memory must be coming back to him. "Yes, I remember."

"And you picked me up and gave me a piggy-back ride. I was coughing all over you, but neither of us cared. That was…one of the best feelings ever."

He stares at his feet. But he's grinning. "I wish I could that for you now."

I'm not exactly sure what he means by this, but I don't say anything.

Matt bites his lip. I know he's fighting back tears.

"Hey Matt?"

There's a silence. He's listening.

"If ever things get really, really awful in the Games, you and Benny better force that memory into your minds. You know, just something to keep you happy."

"Okay." Matt whispers. Benjamin nods firmly.

Benjamin backs towards the door. "We should let you have some time with your family." He mumbles.

Matt nods and follows him. But he throws a look back at me. And then, he runs back.

And before I know it, his lips are on mine.

It's hardly a kiss. A ghost of one, really. But it's like tasting sunshine. It's the first and the last one I'll ever have.

"No matter what happens," Matt says plainly, "No matter what, you'll always be my first."

And I know just what he means.

My mother comes in next with Ross following.

It's an empty exchange of hugs and tears. She cries into my shoulder. Ross cries behind his hand. It's been years since Ross cried.

"I knew!' My mother sobs over and over again. "I knew this would happen!"

She clutches me into her. "Oh, why did they do this? You're just a little girl!"

I can't bring myself to say anything to her. I just can't.

Then, I feel something in my hand.

"Oh Ross." I breathe. "It's so beautiful."

And it is. He's handed me a little gold bracelet. On it, the letters M, B, R, N, and A are engraved.

Me smiles softly, tears falling down his cheeks. "the M's for Matt, the B's for Benjamin, the R's for me, the N's for mom, and then you."

My mother wipes away tears of her own.

"You know how everyone is supposed to come to the Reaping with a token if their family member gets picked. Well, I got this. I guess I figured if you didn't get…you know, it'd be a late birthday present."

"Thank you."

Before they leave, my mother gives me one last hug.

"I just can't believe this!" She sobs. "Why would they do this to such an innocent girl?!"

I rest my hand on her shoulder. "It'll be fine." I mumble.

She strokes my hair. "You're so brave." She whispers.

A Peacekeeper ushers them out. And then, another comes in.

He takes my arm, but I follow pretty limply.

And as we walk across the hall and towards the elevator, a thought occurs to me.

So the whole "brave martyr" thing is nowhere near true. However, that's not really a bad thing.

Maybe I've just got something to work with.

**A/N All right! Please review me your thoughts! Really excellent tributes, by the way, to both our lovely submitters. **

**There won't be a trivia contest this chapter just because there can't be one all the time. :) **

**As for the One-Shot contest, remember to submit! **

**Best of luck!**


	6. D4: The Silent and The Fiery

**A/N So thank you to all of you who've stuck through this to District 4. Now, I know both of my D4 submitters are SUPER excited to see their Reapings. So, three golden mocking jays and A Book Worm Named Steph, I hope I did Markus and Violet justice. Enjoy!**

**Markus Wade's POV**

Footsteps pound and shrill cries fill the hallway.

I hear the sound of laughter and squealing.

"Wake up!" Someone, maybe Casey, yells out.

Exaggerated groaning and shrieks of laughter from down the hall tell me that she just got into dad's room. Maybe she and June are bouncing on the bed. Silent cooing from just next door comes from the babies and maybe Kai. My mother might be soothing his frail little body, trying to coax a smile out of him.

It's morning in the Wade house.

I slowly sit up in bed and stretch my hands up to the ceiling. Jacob's bed next to mine is empty. He's probably downstairs, fixing himself some breakfast. I rest my chin in the palms of my hands. What's today? Well, the Voting. That's no small thing. And after that, there probably won't be a "rest of the day" for me.

Because I'm going to get voted in.

I guess I'm an easy person to dislike. And I even I will admit that. I'm not a people person. I keep to myself. Actually, in school I'm practically mute. I hate the place and everyone in it. Shallow, superficial and dependent on their love for the Capital. They cause a burning, twisting hatred to well up in my veins. It is the people's love of the Capital here that got us where we are. The construction of a Training Center, like in One and Two, is underway. And every time I walk by, I want to throw a burning brick into that place.

No, we'll never be a "true Career" district. The Center will be built too late for that. And I am not alone in my dislike for the Capital. In other words, this is a district divided. There was even talk of separating this into two districts. A new district, Fourteen, would arise. That would be in the bayou area, specializing in shellfish and the like. The small, dirt poor area is crawling with rebels. But here, in the beachy glistening part, we're fairly well off. At least, as well off as fishermen can get. But since the President likes us so much, we have enough supplies.

As for right now, while we wait for the Center to be built, there is a special class at school just for Training. And I have to say, I'm adept with a trident. My father works on the docks and takes me fishing with him whenever he can, so knot-tying and trident handling come naturally to me. My father is really something with a trident. But none of us like to admit that it is a weapon with the potential to kill.

Maybe it's my trident skills that cause resentment among my peers. Or the fact that I'd much rather prefer not to use my trident skills to kill for entertainment. Or the fact that I make my hatred for them quite clear.

It is very likely that this will be the last morning I can spend with my family. But I'd prefer not to think about that. It's crucial I make my family feel like it is just another day. I hate tears. In my mind, emotions belong on the inside, not out where others feel uncomfortable.

Besides, a house full of small children crying would be beyond terrible.

I am the oldest by seven whole years. That means there isn't anyone close to my own age. My mother often grumbles that she had me too early. It is actually quite clear that, out of all seven of us, I am her least favorite. It is surprising though, that even though I am the eldest son, I am not my father's favorite either. But there is one member of the family who likes me best and that's Jacob. He is the next in line, at ten years old. He hangs onto every word I say and practically worships me. Jacob and I have a special bond.

I think he's the only person out there who truly believes…the truth.

But no use going back to that day. I know what happened. I saw what I saw.

To get my mind off it, I think of my family and how chaotic we are. Firstly, there is my father. A picture of what a hardworking man should be. He works all day fishing and on the docks doing odd jobs when he has to. He's gone most of the time though, and doesn't have much time with his kids. When he does, he takes Jacob and me fishing, and occasionally even brings Casey. Casey, for some reason, is his favorite. She annoys me to pieces though. Casey runs down the narrow halls of our two story, cramped house wildly and is rambunctious as any boy should be. She's whip smart and chatty to no end. Chatter is the very thing I hate most. Casey likes her father best of all and makes that fact known.

Her twin sister June is quiet and obedient. She is my mother's favorite. Jacob is also quiet and shy. He doesn't like picking up weapons or even fishing, for that matter. Sometimes, though my father loves us all, I think he's embarrassed by Jacob. And ashamed of me because he thinks I could have….

Anyway, Kai is the one my mother pays the most attention to because he's so sick. He gets fevers all the time and is always sick. He also gets frequent nosebleeds and strange bruising on his back. A visit to the local doctor determined some kind of blood disorder. He has six months or so to live. Kai hangs onto my mother, but in general, is actually quite hostile to us other members of the family, though only four years old. June and Jacob and even the one year olds dislike him for the attention he gets, but none dislike him more than Casey. My mother hardly seems to care about Casey, the same goes for me. So Casey and I do share a small bond, if not one just based on sympathy for each others woes.

The one year olds, Kan and Mari, like June best because she loves them. Though June is only seven, she acts like a mother to them and coddles them.

So we're a family full of those who have favorites and some who can't stand one another. So yes, chaotic is a good word.

I pull on a wrinkled old shirt and a pair of khakis. Will Jacob go to the Voting? Probably. It's an unwritten rule that the rest of the family comes to, in the small case the child will get picked. While Kai, Kan and Mari obviously can't come, June and Casey may tag along. May. Casey will probably beg to come, but June would be just a happy at home.

Though I'm not very close to wither of them, it'd be sad not to say goodbye.

And just like that, a memory comes. Twisting, turning, seeping into my mind, black and harsh. It curls its tendrils around. I try to escape.

No.

No, please not now!

But the tendrils are too strong. It encases. Slowly, building power. Then, an explosion.

I cover my head and moan.

Colors crash and merge into each other. The room melts away.

And I'm back on the dock. Two years ago.

_It's windy. The waves are choppy whitecaps and people cover their arms against the chilly breeze. It's evening. The moon glistens above the water, a silver coin in the deep blue. It's reflected in the deep blue, silent and still. Calm, almost. and I am calm too. I am taking a walk. Not for any particular reason. Just a walk along the dock, trying to get away from the shouts and cries at home. Kai is throwing up everywhere and my mother is cranky, due to her growing belly. Casey is making everyone's life miserable with her racket and June has a terrible headache that's making her scream. _

_I vaguely wonder if I should have brought Jacob along. The cool breeze and open air would have made him happy. He wouldn't have bothered me with incessant chatter. He prefers the silence, like me. We'd keep each other silent company, the best kind. But I'm already here and it's probably too late for eight year old Jacob anyway._

_Ah, well. Nothing wrong with being alone. I shuffle across the dock, planning to get a closer look at those stars. I'm not really the whole mushy type, but they look really nice and it just seems the thing to do on an evening walk. Then, I hear some footsteps behind me. I turn around. Who would follow me to the end of a dock?_

_The footsteps belong to Perch Coleman, very possibly the person I hate most. Of course, hate is a strong word. But he's arrogant, idiotic and all out terrible. It's well known at school that we're unspoken enemies._

_"Hey Wade, watcha doin' this time of night, eh?" He grins his sly grin._

_I shrug and focus on a star hanging above. It's brighter than the rest. Just focus, Markus, and you'll be fine._

_"Still mute?" Perch's voice drips ice._

_I huff slightly but remain silent. What is there to say anyway?_

_Why is he even here? Has he been following me?_

_"You know that girl, Alia?"_

_I know Alia. I know her well. Perhaps the most irritating person on the face of the planet. Her one goal is to get me to have a conversation with her. So talkative and annoying…._

_"Well, she tells me your brother's got a disease."_

_"What?!" I roar. "She never told you that, you liar."_

_How could she? I've never told her. He's lying._

_He smiles sickly. "What, we're getting a little over excited, aren't we?" He holds his palms up in fake confusion._

_"What do you mean?" I whisper through clenched teeth. Enough. No more silence. He's taking it too far._

_"Well, word on the street is that you poisoned him."_

_"What?!"_

_He holds up his palms agin. "Hey, I'm just repeating."_

_That's it. I storm away. Don't fight. Don't get caught up. It's not true._

_It's not true._

_And so I'm walking with my fists in my pockets. But Perch is trying to catch up to me._

_I whirl around, wanting to scare him off. But he trips over my foot._

_I almost laugh. How ridiculous! _

_But suddenly, time seems to slow. Perch goes sailing into the nearby metal post._

_A sick, hollow thump echoes as his head makes contact with it. _

_He stands, dazed. His eyes are unfocused._

_"Perch." I say in a low voice._

_He lets out a groan. Then, he tries to take a step forward, but his eyes close._

_He falls into the sea._

_I back away, slowly. _

_Then, I grab my hair. What just happened? He tripped, hit his head and then….just fell? How?_

_Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God._

_I have to do it. I have to dive in._

_Before I think twice, I leap into the water._

_It's cold, but not too cold. _

_I spot the sinking form. Perch is wearing a pale white shirt._

_I go down, but just a little. The burning starts. _

_I resurface. No, no! I have to go back under._

_I'm loosing time._

_So I do. I reenter the water. Diving deeper and deeper. Until I get a hand on his collar._

_His head is so limp. I pull from the collar and I pull from his shoulder sockets. My lungs start burning again, but we've reached the top. I gasp for air. I made it. We made it. I've just rescued the very person I hate most. I take several deep breaths, letting the cold night air surround me. So cold and pure. It's done._

_But Perch still hasn't taken a breath._

_I manage to hoist him onto the dock. I press my fingers into his chest. I know nothing about the heart or lungs or CPR. But somehow, I know that he is dead. There is an eerie silence._

_Slowly, his body slips off the dock and back into the blue._

_And there is no point in going back in._

_I turn around, tears streaming._

_Alone and silent, a figure waits._

_Then, she takes off running._

_"Wait!" I scream._

_Please wait._

It was all over in a matter of days. The girl was Salmon Roe, Perch's girlfriend. She had come to look for him. But she saw him get pushed, fall in, get rescued, only to be pushed back in.

Only, she changed the story.

I never even tried to rescue him in her version.

Police, jail, everything. But they had to let me free in a matter of days. There was no evidence. No reason to believe it was true, really.

But still, everyone thinks it just the same.

"Breakfast!"

Jacob voice shouts this from downstairs. The memory is gone. Everything is quiet. Peaceful. Just another morning. I heave a tired sigh and go downstairs. None of my sibling really know. With them, I am safe. I'm just their oldest brother, the silent one who occasionally bounces a baby on his knee or plays catch with them. I'm normal.

That fact brings so much relief.

I enter the small eating area (cramped, just like the rest of the house.) It smells like oatmeal. Sure enough, June ladles some into a bowl for me. Jacob stirs a pot of the stuff.

He turns to me. "June and I made breakfast for everyone." He grins.

I'm not a fan of oatmeal. It's so tasteless. But he and June are grinning like mad, proud of their accomplishment. So I take the bowl June holds out for me.

Kai is already sitting at the table, mushing the small amount of oatmeal he has. He frowns at it, knowing his mother will arrive any minute to fuss over him and make him eat it. His small, shaky fingers pick at the rough, wooden table. Like most other things in the house, it's made by hand by our father.

I take a huge mouthful of oatmeal. It's sort of slimy and very tasteless."Mmmmm.." I exclaim. "That is the best oatmeal I've ever had!"

Jacob rewards me with a huge smile and June jumps up and claps her hands. I'm glad for it. I think, of all the children, June and Jacob work the hardest. Dad and I are away most of the time and Mom fusses over Kai too much. They're only ten and seven, but they're second parents to the babies. They hardly ever get praised for their efforts.

They add some more milk to the oatmeal. Suddenly, Dad bursts into the room carrying Casey on his back. She giggles and waves to me. I don't return it.

June frowns at her sister, but dishes some oatmeal in her plate anyway. My father tweaks her nose as she eats and she laughs some more.

Immediately after, Mom comes in with Kan in her arm and Mari toddling beside her. And our quiet, peaceful breakfast suddenly becomes loud and hectic.

Mom tries to get Kai to eat the rest of his oatmeal, but he whimpers and whines and says he doesn't feel good. So she picks him up and carries him away to his room where she stays the rest of the time. June tries to force some oatmeal into Kan's little mouth, while Casey laughs like mad as Mari plays with her food and even puts the dish on her head. My father laughs too as Jacob tries to remove oatmeal bits from Mari's dark baby hair.

All right. Well, I'm done here. I stack my plate and begin to wash it.

My father grunts. "June and Jacob'll take care of it."

I cross my arms. "Yeah? How come Casey won't help? Or me?"

Casey pouts and looks to Dad to rescue her. And he does.

"June and Jacob do all the housework. It's just in their nature. You'd better get yourself over to the Square."

"And Casey?" Jacob demands from his seat.

"Ah well. She can help if she wants to. But it's not in her nature. You know how impatient she gets. She'll break something."

Casey takes this as her golden opportunity and bolts. My father sighs and gets up to put his dish by the sink.

"Guess we're all gonna have to go."

Jacob and June grin at each other, excited. Neither really understand where they're going. A kid gets voted into something. Maybe they won't come home. But that won't be their Markus, they think.

"Why?" I ask, hesitant my siblings get too close to this.

"Well, we can't leave the babies or Kai alone. And Casey'll likely tear this house apart." He laughs sharply.

"Well, I'm gonna get going now. You all can go along later. Not with me."

I'd prefer to go alone. I prefer to do everything alone.

But before I can leave the house, Jacob runs up to me, skidding on the wood floor. I hold the falling-apart screen door open, but he sticks his foot in it.

"Markus, I know where you're going. Don't pretend I don't." He says sharply.

"Oh." I say flatly, for lack of anything better. I really do have a special bond with this kid, so I'm actually really upset that he had to find that the world is such a terrible place.

"Are you going to say something?"

"Uh. no." I hesitate. "Like what?"

He frowns, his sandy blond hair falling into his eyes. "Like maybe, that you promise to come back."

"Jacob, I can't promise anything. You know I hate promises."

"What?!" He shouts.

I bring a finger to my lips, but in the next room, June sets down the dish she's washing, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Look," I whisper. "I can promise that everything will be okay."

His wide blue eyes fill with sadness, but he still nods. "Okay." He says softly.

Before I know it, he comes barreling at me with a hug. "Bye Markus." He whispers.

"Bye kid."

So I leave our little whitewashed house overlooking the sea. Reeds in the sand whistle in the wind. It'll be summer soon. Maybe some citizens of the Capital will come here to vacation. The really elite do that sometimes. They come to the beach right in front of our house in their ridiculous eye watering clothing and opulent jewels and parasols. Even the littlest ones laugh at them. I, on the other hand, have to resist the urge to throw my trident right at their black hearts.

They can try to hide their darkness by covering it in bright neon colors and fabulous, shining jewels. But it's there. I can see it.

Sand blows into my face, but spending my whole life in a cabin by the sea has made me tolerant to it. I love the sea and its rough wildness. Swift, powerful, strong and and rough. Like the people here. We adapt quickly. Know what to do in a tough situation. We have the mentality to win the Games. But will we ever really have a "career" mentality?

I doubt it. Sure, there are the odds ones out. Those who love the Capital and their potential glory. Those whose goal seems to be to make the lives of people like me, who disagree, miserable. But in general, there are just too many rebels. Sure, we're a pretty district. All sunshine and cloudless skies. Endless summer, cheerful whitewashed cabins, quaint little Square and whatever.

But not until you see the dark side.

The dense, overgrown bayou. Floods, shacks, starving children. We're like any other place. Just…divided.

The people in the bayou have to travel all day to make it to the Square. You can always tell them apart. Ratty clothes, ribs showing, bare foot, they stare at the simplest things with awe. I have never been there. And I am glad for it.

"Markus!"

I recognize that voice. Its horrible high pitched sound. Always raised in a question.

Alia.

She barrels right towards me, all sunshine and smiles. Her blond hair whips against her tanned face. Toned legs run across the sandy sidewalk to catch up to me. She's pretty. She could have any guy she wants, really.

So why is she so obsessed with me?

I've become her own project. Weeks, months years, all spent trying to get me to be her friend. As far as I know, she doesn't even want a boyfriend.

She begins to walk next to me.

"So Markus, are you heading to the Square. I am too."

I continue facing forward. Maybe if I just pretend not to hear her…

It's not that I'm cruel or anything. I just prefer being alone. And she knows that. I just want her to go away. But she's not hurt. Inside, she's tough as nails.

Secretly, I have to admire that part about her.

Alia just keeps staring at me.

Eventually she just answers her own question. "Of course you're going to the Square. Everyone is." She says lightly. As if this were a show.

I shove my hands into my pockets. Why won't she go? Can't she tell I hate being in her presence? She's just another one of them. One of the people who couldn't care less about the horrors outside their windows. No, as long as it doesn't affect her, life's all sunshine and rainbows. She can't see them for what they are. She sees them as having pretty clothes and lots of money. She isn't the only who secretly dreams of that life. Unfortunately. That is the one reason why I would want to move to the district's dirt-poor outskirts. Like-minded rebels.

We walk underneath whitewashed apartments with small stain glass windows. Colorful clothes dance in the breeze as they hang from clothes lines. Windows are thrust open. I can hear voices inside. Children. Shouting, getting ready, trying to look nice. The sounds of plates being stacked and dried. Flowers sit in little boxes under some of the windows. It looks so cheery. So…normal. But something is very wrong.

The people walking with us are nervous. Anxious. Their hands flutter and they hardly speak.

Alia is strangely more silent than usual.

Finally, the narrow alleyways empty out into a large Square. Shops lines the corners and roped of sections are steadily filling with children. The smell of salt and fish is in the air.

"We should get checked in."

I give Alia a single grunt, but follow her.

While we wait in line, she seems to have found her voice again. She chatters away about the escort, Blaise Sapphire and what he might be wearing. Then, she talks about the victors. She knows the ones mentoring this year. Aquarius Tell and Maria Crest. I know the names vaguely. Aquarius won the eighth Games, if I'm right. Maria is young. I think this is her first year. She won the twenty second Games when she was sixteen. She's only two years older than me.

But really, so much older.

Once my finger's jabbed I try to get away from Alia. Thank goodness, she heads over to where the sixteen year old girls stand.

They talk to each other in low voices and whisper excitedly, jabbing at each other and covering their mouths.

But none of them talks to her.

I guess that's kind of sad. Alia doesn't really have any friends.

And something tells me, unlike myself, she actually doesn't like being alone.

I'm glad for the distraction the mayor's speech provides. I don't want that guilt sitting in my stomach. It's times like these when I want to reach out to her out of pity, but then I realize the consequences. She'll think I'm her friend, maybe more. It's just a phase, I keep telling myself . She'll get over it.

The mayor looks confident. He's proud of being up there. Proud to show off his pretty little district to the Capital. He even smiles right at the camera.

I feel sick.

I can tell the rebels apart. Many stand excitedly, but some frown. They whisper harshly. Their eyes are cold. They watch the images on the screen being showed to us with disgust and hatred. They see this place for what it is. But not everyone is like that.

Why is this place so divided?

**Violet Callo's POV**

My feet are getting sore, but I don't mind.

I've only taken this walk once before. It only comes once a year, on Reaping Day. All of the families from where I'm from spend all day walking to the Square. The Square is in what we call The City. Yep, not very creative with names, are we? But there's only one city here, so everyone knows what you're talking about when you refer to it.

The ceremony starts at elevon o clock, so we had to get up around four-thirty. Oh well. I wake up early anyway.

The ground here is hard, packed and sandy. I miss the feeling of soft, muddy bayou ground between my toes, but this is easier to walk on.

"Hey Vi, you tired yet?"

My brother Victor walks beside me, swinging his arms widely. He doesn't have to be scared. He's too old to be chosen, since he's twenty.

Not that I'm scared.

"No Vic, I'm not tired."

He laughs. " Course not."

I stare at the trees above us, dappled in sunlight. It won't be long now. We'll arrive shortly. The families that take the train only have a short trip to make, but Victor and I hate the train. It's meant for carrying animals. There's nowhere to sit and it's cramped and dark.

I hate places that are cramped and dark. Some people think swamps are dirty, muddy places. But I love my home. I love the little shack Victor and I live in, perched on a small dock. It rests on stilts, leaning comfortably. If the bayou flooded, we'd all be fine. It's flooded before. That was even before the Dark Days. Before it was even called District Four. It was just The Bayou then. It all flooded. A lot of people died.

I try to pay attention in school, so that's how come I know all that. School's on dryer ground than my house. But I like where I live just fine. The kids from the dry ground families sure are uppity. They're the ones who package the seafood or clean it and things like that. We bring our catch to them. Sometimes they might own a little store where we get our clothes or something. They think they're better then us. Just cause they don't live in shacks or have to wear the same clothes a few times in a row.

And there's nobody worse then Maebelle Jessup.

Maebelle. Is that not the most awful name you ever did hear?

Just thinking it makes my face flush with anger right now. A little wave of red. That's what I call it. Cause for a little while, all I can seem to see is that color, not all the pretty ones that might be around me. Maebelle has that effect on me.

She terrible and wretched and horrible and…

"Violet!"

I whip my head around just as Alexis runs toward me. Alexis is my best and only friend.

"You okay?" She pants. "You look angry."

"Nah. I'm fine." I say lightly.

Alexis straightens. "It's Maebelle, isn't it?"

She knows what happened better than anyone, I suppose. It was terrible, just as terrible as Maebelle herself.

"I'm not blaming you or anything." Alexis whispers to me.

I frown. "Of course you're not." I snap.

It wasn't my fault! She started it. Maebelle was so asking for it when she talked bad about my daddy. She said he was insane! So he had a temper and he drank, he was still my daddy. He loved me and Victor. I was just so crushed when I found that he was dead. Got drunk and fell right off the dock. Drowned in the water he always said he'd write a poem about. The water he took his little shrimping boat on and was so content to be near it…

He was killed by the very thing he loved the most.

I just got so angry with her talkin' about him like that. All I could see was red.

Red.

Red.

And then, that red was all over her hand. I stabbed her with a pencil. Hard.

I didn't even know I did it. It was like…something else was in my body.

Guess I got my daddy's temper.

Everybody knows bout it. Not like I care.

Alexis walks beside me and her family eventually catches up. I could be part of Alexis's family. We all look alike. Everybody in the bayou looks kinda alike. We've got tanned skin and dark hair, with big chocolate brown eyes. The people in the city are prettier. Blond, fit and trimmed. But I prefer our natural, wild-looking look.

"You been walking all day too?" I say, trying to change the subject and make a nice conversation.

"Yep. That's how come I'm panting so hard!" Alexis laughs.

Over the trees, I see the tips of white stucco buildings. The air smells all good and salty. But fishy too. Not like bayou air, warm and muggy. This is cool and fresh. Ocean air.

"We're getting closer." I say to no one in particular. To be honest, I don't know how I feel about our arrival. Last year, I was actually kinda excited. Even though it was real sad seeing those kids get killed in the Games. But I'd never seen the City 'fore that, so that part was kinda nice. Kind of.

This year though, I might be just a little scared. Just a little.

Maebelle's pretty popular at school and she, without a doubt, got all her friends to vote for me.

See how terribly awful she is?

But maybe it won't happen. There's lots of kids here in the big ol' City, right?

Can't happen. Won't happen.

"So now, Violet. Whaddaya think of the Capital, huh?" Victor asks, studying the buildings ahead.

I know damn well what Victor thinks of em. He ain't afraid of speaking his mind, and that's for sure. Almost every night he spends ranting bout 'em and their sick Games. Then he paces round the little ol' shack and rattles those walls made of tin and I think they just might fall down.

And sometimes I yell with him. Don't know much bout what I'm yelling at, but it sure feels good. Screaming into that deep blue sky, filled with flickering fireflies and waves lapping up onto the rickety motor boat. Slamming our hands down on that handmade table made out of scraps, like everythin' else. Letting all that anger out that was trapped like I used to catch fireflies in a jar for light.

That's home right there.

Don't matter that we're dirt poor and maybe goin' to bed hungry. Cause we got each other.

"I think they're downright silly."

Alexis and Victor chuckle next to me.

"Well I don't have much of a better word for them!" I laugh. "Their clothes and the uppity way they talk."

"More uppity than the dry land kids!" Alexis shouts.

"More uppity then them Jessups!" Victor laughs.

This is pretty nice right here. With my two favorite people. And I'm pretty glad they've got such strong opinions. Better than just being tired ole do-nothings sitting around on their shrimping boats drinking beer and thinking nothing at all.

"Hey, what's the biggest district?" Alexis asks Victor.

"Depends on if you mean size or population. I think Three's got the biggest population right before Two, but Twelve and Ten are real big in size. Hardly anybody lives in 'em them, though."

We walk thoughtfully awhile. It's kinda funny, but I sure don't know much about the other districts. Haven't hardly been outside my own little corner of the swamp, I guess.

"Hey Alexis!"

Alexis's daddy comes walking towards us. "Once we get into that city, everybody stick together, right?"

We nod.

"Victor, you come on over to where me and Lola are standing. We'll get the girls together and then all of us can just head on back home. Like this never happened."

Like this never even happened. I wish.

It's too crowded here. We've just arrived in the Square. All these City girls are all packed together. The only good thing is that there's so many of us I can't see Maebelle. That'd be just awful.

I stare at Diva Darius, the escort whose name I only remember cause she introduced herself so darn hugely. She looks so happy. I start seeing a little bit of red, but I force it to go away. It's hard to do that. Truth is, sometimes I like that fiery red. Makes me know I'm no little weakling.

The two victors behind her look so sad and lost. I'm not sure of their names. Victor usually tries to shield me from the mandatory screenings.

I stare at my tanned legs. They're skinny, but not scrawny. In fact, I can see some muscle. From running around and swimming. And I've got muscle-y arms too! From arm wrestling and rowing the boat when the motor isn't working and hauling in the catch.

My tan hands have a web of scars. A lot of them come from handling catfish, cause they've got these pointy little things on 'em and sometimes they bite right when you think they're dead. Stupid ol' fish.

I brush that hair out of my face. It's gonna get sun streaked this time of year. Sometimes it's so dark it's nearly black, blowing wildly every which way. Here though, the City girls look like they care plenty about their hair.

Probably trying to look good for those cameras.

Makes me sick.

And now Diva holds a piece of paper, handed to her by our mayor.

"Ladies first!" She screeches.

Damn. That's the most hideous voice I ever did hear.

She folds it real slow, like she's trying for suspense. And I start to notice a sick feeling, starting in my stomach and seeping right through my bones. I feel tired all of a sudden. My feet in their worn old flip-flops curl and I'm sweating right through this nice white sundress. Well, it's nothing compared to what some of these girls are wearing.

Now she goes to the microphone.

"And the person you've voted in as tribute is…"

She pauses and several girls around me groan.

"Violet Callo!"

And first, there's nothing but quiet.

Then, some people turn around to face me. Terrible people. People who want me dead. Well, the feeling is mutual. I hope they die a terrible death and rot in hell, for all I care. Except Alexis.

I go right in the middle and walk up to the stage.

Everybody is staring. Ice cold eyes. Well, I hope I'm returning them.

Sick. Sick people. Making me see nothing but red.

Red.

Red.

I hear myself panting. Pounding. Want to run. Want my feet to pound. Want to go back home in that little shack on that little dock in my little corner of the universe.

And I am face to face with Diva as she gives me a twisted smile. Empty eyes. I am so glad for the fire in mine.

Fire.

Fire.

I will show them. I will show them all. I will come back. And when I do, there'll be nothing but fire.

Another slip of paper. A large boy with empty eyes. So empty….

But mine aren't.

We shake hands. How sick! Shaking hands should symbol trust. That you've got your faith in 'em. But he just stares at his feet and doesn't say a word. Markus. That's his name. Dark hair, tan skin like mine. But big, strong hands. They're firm, like he's trying to brave. But he can't even meet me eyes.

Back where the families stand, I hear a scream.

Victor makes a sound like an animal.

And it's tearing me apart right from the inside. And everything is blacker and blacker.

Victor stares at me, so angry and confused. And disappointed. In his home. That they would do this.

I bring my eyes to meet his own.

And I show him the fire in 'em.

**Markus Wade's POV**

The first thing I hear are the wheels of the rickety old stroller.

My mother pushes it in, looking at the floor. The twins stare around with wide eyes, unaccustomed to being in such an open, airy room. Kai rides on the back of the stroller, looking terribly weak and confused. Casey holds Dad's hand and June holds hers. They just look confused. Jacob's eyes are red. He's been crying.

They all stop to stare at me. June's wide brown eyes look up to Mom as if to say "why are we here?", but for some reason she says nothing. Casey plays absentmindedly with her long dark hair.

Finally, Dad clears his throat. "Markus, I can't find the words to say."

That's it?

I'm going to die and that's all he can tell me? That he doesn't now what to say!

"I do." Mom says softly.

She walks over and runs her cold finger down my cheek. And I can almost picture the two of us, before all these little ones filled up the space. Those days we spent on the beach together. She'd ruffle my hair and whisper in my ear, soft as the ocean itself. We'd run into the waves, fearless. My father would be chuckling behind. Maybe then he'd hoist me up for a piggy-back ride and I'd spread out my arms and pretend to fly. Then night would come and we'd go back inside. She'd leave the window open so we could still hear the ocean's whispering.

And then I'd crawl under her blankets, all covered in sand. I'd bounce up and down on her bed and giggle and beg her to hug and play with me. Oh, and her lullabies! All sung to the moon over the sea and the thousands of twinkling stars…

Soon she'd push me away. Tell me I was too old for hugging and playing. I had responsibilities, with all the babies running around.

But right here and now, I can feel that she still loves me. She always will.

After all, a mother's love can never fade away.

"I love you." She whispers.

And again, it's soft as the ocean itself.

"Can I talk to my siblings?" I blurt out.

Dad's eyes blink a few times. "Well sure. What do you have in mind?"

"Mom, can you bring Mari over?"

I hardly ever hold Mari. Just not a baby kind of guy, I guess. So I'm a little scared at first, holding someone so small. But her dark green eyes, same as mine, stare up at me with a certain fierceness. Huh. She really does seem like a tiny me.

"Hey Mari." I whisper.

She sticks a finger in her mouth. "Ma!" She smiles, her nickname for me.

"Now Mari, I know you can't understand what I'm saying, really."

The room is silent. In the corner, a Peacekeeper stands, emotionless.

"Mari, you are going to be a beautiful girl. Strong too. I can tell."

I brush her hair back. How come I've never been close to most of my siblings? What's wrong with me? How could I leave them with hardly anything to remember me by? It's about time I gave them something good to remember.

"Be good for mommy and daddy." I whisper.

Then I hold Kan. Like most of us, he has the same tan skin and dark eyes. His are green instead of brown.

Give him something to remember, Markus. If you die, his siblings and parents can tell him his big brother's last words.

"Kan, you are this family's little light. Don't stop, got that kid?" I say to him.

He rests his finger on my cheek.

"I'm going to fight my hardest so I can hold you again, okay?"

I gently hand him to June, who waits with open arms.

Kai sits on my lap and stares at me with his pale eyes. He and Jacob are the only members of the family with blond hair and pale eyes. Kai has hardly any color left in him at all.

"Where are you going?" He asks, innocent.

"Somewhere far away. A big city." I clear my throat.

Mom looks at me hesitantly and shifts Mari in her arms. Dad rubs Casey's shoulder. I can tell she's bursting with curiosity too. And confusion. He also rests another hand on Jacob's shoulder. Jacob wear the same expression as Mom.

"I'm going to play a game. It's a very hard game to win and I have to go far away to play it. I'll be on television."

Kai's four year old mind works to process this. "Is that like…famous?" He questions.

I swallow. "Yeah, exactly like that."

Casey scrunches her nose. "Then how come everybody's so sad?"

I allow myself a small smile.

But her question remains unanswered.

"Kai, stay strong for mommy and always push through."

"Even when I'm sick?"

"Especially when you're sick."

Kai slides off my lap and Casey clambers up next to me.

She stares at me with fierce pale green eyes against her dark skin. Casey is like a ball of fire. She will, no doubt, grow to hate the Capital as much as I do.

"You're going to win this game, right?"

I bite my lip. "Of course I will." I say it with as much conviction as I can muster.

She smiles. "Good." And reaches over to give me a hug, which I'm a bit surprised at.

"Casey, you're steadfast and stubborn and brave. Don't let anyone tell you what to think,"

She looks confused, but nods solemnly and moves over so June can go next.

"June, you're the sweetest little sister a guy could ask for." I laugh a little.

"Why are you so sad?" She whispers.

"I-I'm going to be gone for a long time, that's all."

"Will we see each other again?" Her brown eyes fill with tears.

I pat her shoulder. I'm not used to this whole "comforting thing," but Oh Well.

"Of course, Junie."

Jacob runs over and hugs me fiercely.

"Remember your promise." He says into my ear.

"You got it."

His face falls suddenly and a single tear falls from his eye. "Bye Markus. I know I don't say it a lot, but I love you."

My heart feels like it's at the bottom of my chest. "And I don't say it enough, but I love you too."

"You're a great kid, Jacob." I tell him.

My father pulls me into an embrace and my mother touches my cheek again.

Then they're gone and the room is silent once more.

But not for long.

For some reason, the door cracks open and Alia walks in.

Inwardly, I groan. I thought I was done with these stupid morbid goodbyes.

She sits next to me and swings her feet. As if this were the most casual thing in the world. Absentmindedly, she twirls a a strand of her honey blond hair. Is she staring out the window, maybe? God, this girl is so spacey and shallow I just can't get over it. She stares intently at the window and the ocean beyond it.

"You probably don't want me hear right now, so I won't talk too much." She says this so plainly it takes me aback. Her voice sounds so…flat. No doubt about it, this is not the Alia I know.

I give her a grunt of satisfaction. Just to show her that, fine, she can stay. If she doesn't talk. Like I said before, it's not that I'm coldhearted. Even though I really can't stand her, I don't want to leave Alia with nothing but bad memories. I'll just suffer through her voice. It's only a few minutes of my life. And what could be the last few at home.

"I want you to have this."

She places a chord around my neck. I feel it. Silver. It must have cost a fortune. At the end, a little medal dangles with a picture of a fish on it. I cup my hand to get a better look at it. It really is a very nice necklace. Or medallion or whatever. Wonder how she got it.

"Thanks." I mumble.

Alia smiles widely, if not a bit sadly. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I want you to keep it. And then, when you get back home, we can have a conversation. The two of us, okay?"

"Huh?"

Alia smiles again. "Promise me when you get back, you'll talk."

I nod. Fair deal. If I win, I'd be willing to do anything.

Alia looks proud of her accomplishment. "I believe you, you know. The other…they're wrong about you. I just know it."

She doesn't have to tell me what she's talking about.

Alia gets up to leave without so much of a goodbye. Perhaps there is a reason why she didn't say goodbye. She must really think I will come back.

And that's when it hits me. I really know nothing about Alia Merr. Though there are rumors. They say her father is a drunk. They say her mother is practically catatonic. They say her father is abusive. They say, they say….

I've never checked to see of the rumors were true. Never thought twice about the pestering little girl.

What have I done?

No doubt about it, I will keep my promise.

Now that is something my mother would be proud of. God, I'm so grateful for my own slightly chaotic family. Sure, we fight and yell. but we love each other. Though we have a funny way of showing it, we care about each other.

I think about the way she left the room. The way she cried softly.

Soft as the ocean itself.

**Violet Callo's POV**

Right now, I'm thinking this is the last time I'm ever gonna feel safe.

Victor's holding me in his big, strong arms. He's got a tattoo, right on his left shoulder. It's of an eagle. He told me that once, like a million gazillion years ago, it stood for freedom. For standing up for what you think is right. Justice.

I'm thinking 'bout that eagle right now. Are there still eagles left? Or are they all dead? That'd be real sad if they were. I guess it'd be like freedom and justice went and died right on with 'em. So I suppose that's what happened. Maybe when the eagles all dropped dead, people didn't want to fight no more. Their freedom was gone too.

All of a sudden, I feel a tear on my hair.

I sit up. "Victor, you're crying!"

If anybody has an older brother, they'd likely know how scary it is to see him cry. Big brothers aren't supposed to cry. Everybody knows that. They're supposed to be their for their little sisters. Sheltering 'em and protecting 'em. I remember when I was real small, he'd pretend to scare off the monsters under my little cot. Beds are expensive. Anyway, he got himself a glass jar, the same kind for catching fireflies, and told me it was full of monster repellent. He'd sprinkle some every which way and I could sleep in peace to the sound of the frog's croaking and crickets humming. Course now I know it wasn't nothing but a jar of water, maybe with some of daddy's liquor mixed in so it'd smell kinda funny.

But I thought he was the bravest guy in the whole world.

He only cried once before, really, at Daddy's funeral. He and Daddy were close, even though they fought a lot. Daddy wanted freedom too. He yelled loudest of all. He taught Victor and me how to swim, fish, arm wrestle and speak up for ourselves. Or shout, if we have to.

Maybe he cried at Mama's funeral too, but I was too little to remember that one.

Victor pats my shoulder. "Yeah Vi, I'm crying. Only cause this world is just so sick and messed up."

Alexis's dad, whose got a hand on her bony shoulder, nods fiercely. "Sick indeed."

Lola, who is Alexis's Mom, shakes her head. "I just don't understand. Who'd vote in a little girl?"

"Forget that!" Victor shouts. "It ain't their fault, it's the Capital's!"

The Peacekeeper at the door moves his gun into his hand. "Watch it." He barks.

Victor leaps off the couch. I cringe. "Watch it?!" He roars. "What, did you just think we were just gonna sit here and let this happen?!" He breathes heavily though his nose.

"You let me say goodbye to my baby sister." He hisses.

I want to cheer for him. He's still the bravest guy in the world, and that's for sure.

"Victor." I say when he sits back down next to me. "I'm gonna try and be just as brave as you. Mark my words, they won't know what hit 'em."

Victor pats me on the back hard and Alexis grins. Her Daddy claps his hands.

Lola wipes some sweat off her brow. "Violet, you're damn right. You show them that fire inside you. You leave 'em something to remember, got that?"

I almost laugh. Well, I have never heard a mother curse before! She must really mean it.

Alexis runs up and pulls me into a hug. She still smells faintly of the wild fresh air from back home.

A rush of emotion hits me. The sound of the frogs croaking first thing in the morning, dragging a net full of shrimp onto the boat, those happy moments when Victor can get its motor starting. And those moments when we hit open water and tear off our clothes to reveal fading bathing suits and jump in headfirst. How I prided myself in being such a great swimmer! Alexis, Victor and I didn't care that the water was all filled with algae and mud. We still had the time of our lives.

I'm gonna miss that so badly. I've got to get home. I've just got to.

Victor gives me his little ring. It's faded gold, though probably not real. He's had it on his finger since forever. I don't even know how he got it.

But carefully, he slips it onto my finger.

"Victor," I breathe, "That's yours."

"Not anymore. You keep it. It's got your initials too, see?" He stares down at the ring, smiling so sadly.

Sure enough, it's got V.C carved in it. Then I laugh. It's short and sharp and I already miss my usual loud laugh that sounds like water falling or glass tinkling. This one here is more like glass shattering.

"Those are your initials too!"

"Yeah." He grins. "But you keep it and I mean it."

I twist the ring around my finger. "When I get back, I'm gonna have to give it back to you, got that?"

He pulls me into another hug. "When you get back. Of course."

Now, I didn't say _If I get back."_

I said _When._

**A/N That brings us to the end of another chapter. Thanks for all the support I've gotten! Seriously, you guys are great. **

**Everybody remember to submit to the one-shot contest! To remind you, the prompt is "Stone Hearts." Please interpret that any way you want. Metaphors are lovely, people! Oh, and any pairing besides Glato. If you read any of my stories, you'd know that that is just wrong. Slash is weird, but if it works, aw heck, why not? **

**And if you don't consider yourself a good writer, get a confidence boost! You can do this, I believe in you! Listen to some Christina Aguilera, take a self-help course, meditate, whatever it takes. Just submit!**


	7. D5: The Just and The Sly

**A/N District Five has arrived! It's one of my personal favorites. My all time favorite character comes from Five, so I'm super-duper excited! If anybody wants to read more about it, check out One Tear For Me. It's got a twist…Anyway, here's Jimmy Thrine by RandomAngel123, who is super supportive and sweet :) and Katerina Rebekah Nikolina ( a mouthful there, huh?) by drinkthatliquorstore who is extremely descriptive, so I've got a lot to go off of! **

**Jimmy Thrine's POV**

People are confusing.

They stand together in their own huddled groups. They're afraid. Afraid of what others think. Afraid of being ridiculed. Afraid of being alone. But most of all, they are afraid of the unknown.

A silent one, one different from them in some way. Perhaps this person walks with a strange gait, smiles a little too widely, laughs a little too long, or ignores all the efforts of others trying to help him or her conform. It isn't that humans are terrible primitive beasts. We just tend to gravitate to those most like us. Simple human nature.

And now…what to do if you are simply unlike anyone else?

There will be the whispers. The looks behind your back. Red-faced with shame. You know you'll never fit in.

You long to be a part of a group. Laughing, smiling, a feeling of togetherness. Warmth. You want so badly to belong.

Me, I've never had that feeling.

Everything's been just all right with me. I don't mind being the "freak" or the "loser." Maybe I'm called those things cause I'm so quiet. Or maybe it's for making friends with Hugo. Ever since the first day of school, he's been the bottom of the bottom. He's slow, where all the other kids at school are so intelligent. In Five, intelligence is valued. Sure, not to the extent of Three, but it's still our primary value. Hand-eye coordination is pretty up there too. Wouldn't do any good working at a Nuclear Power Plant and being clumsy, am I right?

Of course, Hugo and I are considerably lacking in that area.

I couldn't catch a ball from five feet. But I consider myself lucky. At least I don't have reading problems or stutter like Hugo.

Ever since I was small, my mother's been telling me to count my blessings. Never mind the fact that you're having grayish soup with unidentifiable pieces of meat swimming around; the kids in Twelve are dying from starvation. Who cares if you feel cramped in your tiny apartment without a single window? The little kids in Eleven sleep on the dirt ground in tin shacks. And that horrible smoke and chemical smell constantly in the air? Well, at least you don't have to worry about dodging cow shit every step you take like the kids in Ten do.

See? I'm fortunate. Of course, what good ol' mom never mentioned was the kids here in Five dying of cancer every day from all that radiation. I'm sure they don't have that problem anywhere else. Or maybe the fact that we have no food supply. We depend on the other districts for that. Oh sure, it's not like the people in Nine get their pick of all the grain they want, but at least they don't have to freak out over when the next supply of bread will come in. Or maybe the fact that we're, oh I don't know, the district with the lowest length of living?

Yeah, little known fact, but as it turns out, toxic waste isn't good for your health. Who knew, huh?

But my family is fine. Untouched by the misery outside. We just…exist. Ours is a happy family. Happier than most.

Especially Hugo's.

It doesn't take long for word to spread. Even when we were in first, second or third grade, we knew something was wrong. Sure, he lived in the orphanage. Lots of kids did. But their parents died from (surprise, surprise) cancer or freak accidents or fires at work. The weird thing about Hugo?

His mom still visited him.

She was alive! So why'd she dump off her kid in some crappy orphanage? Seriously, those kids hardly get fed. And on all the years except for this one, they have to take an outrageous amount of tesserae to feed the exorbitant amount of kids holed up in that misery hole. High risks of early deaths mean orphans. And lots of 'em. But like I said, my friend's different.

Turns out, his mom actually put him in their cause she _cares _about him.

When we first met, maybe first grade age, we used to fantasize about what she was. She told him she was "something bad" and she lived "no life for a little boy." We thought she was maybe a spy. A rich one, too. That's why whenever she visited him, she brought him candy or fruit or a toy. Things normal kids around here definitely do not get. We imagined her fighting bad guys. Of course, the bad guys were Capital guys. Peacekeepers, maybe. The President, if we were feeling brave. In Five, those were the guys everyone considered evil. We just copied what we heard. And being a spy seemed like a pretty decent excuse to dump your kid on an orphanage's doorstep.

Yeah, she wasn't a spy.

Well anyway, no sense dwelling on that one. The point is, I don't need all those friends surrounding me or any of that. I've got a perfectly stable family and they're the best friends anyone could have.

I stare at my face in the tiny bathroom's mirror. I'm just average looking. Besides being too tall and too skinny, nothing stands out about me. I use some water to slick back a stray lock of brown hair. Instinctively, I reach for my glasses. Cheap, government-issued frames from that day when a doctor comes to check all us poor kids out. Mostly just to weed out the ones with cancer. But bad vision is something pretty important too. Who'd want a half-blind worker dealing with nuclear energy? I sure wouldn't.

I huff a bit and blow some hair in my face. Ah well. The day has finally arrived. Now we will have to see how much my class mates truly dislike me. It's a huge district though. Other school, worse kids. I'm sure there are plenty of insane murderers and arsonists and druggies and all of that, right? And I haven't done anything wrong, have I?

The smells of breakfast push me into the kitchen. Sure enough, the smell belongs to crisp, wonderful pancakes. A special treat for a terrible day.

My mother wipes some sweat off her brow and grins at me. Her floral skirt billows by her feet. Unlike all the other mothers, she will do anything for color. The rest exist in a world where they satisfy themselves with gray. My mother, on the other hand, thinks the whole thing smothering. Homemade dyes, second-hand falling apart things, traveling out of her way to buy her own material. Anything to bring color. She pushes a loose strand of hair out of her bun and smiles at me.

We don't choose to exist in an all-gray living area either. A huge prism hangs above the window, throwing dancing rainbows across the walls. The rug is threadbare, but a ice shade of peach. Flower boxes hang from a windowsill. We're the only family I know who does that. Never mind that inside the window is actually boarded up. A cheap, but cheery-looking, yellow table sits underneath the tiny rainbows.

At that table, my father sits, blowing some steam off a forkful of golden pancakes. He grins softly at Elsie, sitting across from him swinging her feet. Well, sort of. One of them swings just fine, but the other one has an odd rhythm. Like it;s trying too hard to keep up. Her left leg is enclosed in a gray metal brace. Once, she and mom painted little dots on it, to make it more cheerful. I'm sure that paint wasn't cheap, but my parents would do anything for us. Anyway, that paint faded.

Her left arm, too skinny and limp, dangles uselessly by her side. Her fingers curl strangely. Her right arm and leg aren't as skinny as the rest of her, from having to do twice the work. But otherwise, she's too tiny. Like a little breath of air, really. All because of a massive seizure thing she had a few years ago.

She still gets them. Maybe about once a week. But she's gone up to six on a bad one. Kids get freaked out. Like I said, anything different is something terrifying. Here, we aren't exactly medical geniuses. To them, she could be possessed. Or just scary. It is pretty scary though. Watching that little girl making those terrible screams…

I have to force all that away. Don't focus on the fact that you've unintentionally given plenty of kids a reason for voting me in.

Elise put her head in her hand and offers me a happy little smile. A typical morning. My whole family, just happy to be alive. I decide to take advantage of that.

I sit down in an old metal chair next to my little sister. "Eat your breakfast." I tell her gently. Her wrists, so thin they almost don't exist, worry me.

She giggles. "You don't have to tell me. I love pancakes."

My mom set down a plate of them in front of me. I have decided gold is the color of happiness. These little disks right here…pure happiness. Never mind there isn't anything to put on them or spice them up. It's perfect. Always is, when it's done by mom. Hey, even an eighteen year old guy can appreciate his mom's pancakes.

I scoop a huge forkful in my mouth and sigh. Haven't had food this good in a long while. I couldn't take tesserae this year. Only the kids in Twelve could and that's only with begging from the mayor. Of course, we all thought the president wouldn't relent. As it turns out, he hates chaos. Wouldn't want to give 'em a reason for revolution. I've heard he poisons people just to avoid possible tensions.

Elsie plays absentmindedly with her blond hair. Thin and wispy as father gives a slight cough. She looks up, momentarily concerned for him. That's Elsie. No doubt she took after mom.

He clears his throat. "Jimmy, are you in your good clothes over there?"

"Dad, I'm eighteen. I think I can dress myself!" I laugh. Now that I think about it, only my family can really get me to laugh. I think I'd consider Hugo part of that family. He visits all the time and my parents both adore him. Elsie practically clings to him! Almost as much as she does to me.

My mother comes over to ruffle my hair. "This is your last one, honey." She whispers.

But Elise has heard. She sits up in her chair. "Jimmy, where exactly are you going?"

The question hangs in the air. All the clattering of forks and the sizzling of the pancakes has stopped. The comforting lull of my parents' conversation has suddenly stopped. Everyone stares down, unsure of what to do.

My father sets down his fork. "Well go on then, Jimmy. She's nine. That's old enough."

My mother's lips are set in a thin line. She's unsure of this. But Dad's right. Nine is old enough.

"Elsie," I begin. "Do you know about the Games?"

She shifts her limp arm slightly from its awkward angle. "Sure I do. The Hunger Games are held every year to remind the districts of what the did wrong in the Dark Days. Children compete for honor and glory to restore to their ashamed homes. The winner gets famous."

She recites this all like she's reading out of a textbook. Well, it makes me sick. No way are they brainwashing my little sister at school. She's nine! She's so innocent still. Well, if they've managed to get that far into it, I'd better give her the truth.

"That's not really true."

Elsie looks shocked. Of course, a little girl couldn't understand the fact that her teachers and books might be wrong. Why, I remember feeling the exact same way.

"See, it's true they're held to remind the districts of what they did in the Dark Days. But do you know what they did?"

She shakes her head, her brown eyes widening.

"They fought against the President, who was the bad guy. We were all the good guys."

"I know!" Elsie bursts out. My mother draws her finger to her lips. Emotional outbursts could cause a seizure.

Elsie huffs with impatience. "I know." She repeats it again in a softer tone. "The boys at school always say that. But how come they're bad. Rick said said something about killing his cousin when he was just thirteen. But I don't know how."

"Oh my God." My mother breathes.

Yeah, Chase Wires was in my class at school. Didn't even know the kid well. Didn't want to, is more like it. Poor kid though. And poor Rick, having to find that out at such a young age.

"Well, in these Games, two kids from the districts have to play in them. One boy and one girl from each one. Rick was chosen. But this year, they're voted in. Maybe the kids everyone thinks will play the game best get picked."

Whew. What a liar I am. That may be true in the Career districts, but not here.

"How do they play the game?" Her high voice squeaks out even higher. Elsie knows she's just asked a very taboo question. But she deserves her answer. My mother hides her mouth behind her hand. Even my father is trying to keep tears from falling.

"They have to kill each other, Elsie." I say plainly. "Until just one is left."

She gasps, but I press on. Once I've started, I can't seem to stop.

"There are certain kids who won't kill because they know how bad and scary it is. But some will do it without a second thought. And they're good at it. Those are the kids from One, Two and pretty soon, Four will follow. Most kids end up getting killed by them. Rick's cousin was probably one of them."

She lets out a soft "Oh."

My mother races over to hug her. "Oh honey. It's all right. It'll be all right."

Elsie wraps her arm around her, then gently assists her limp one too. "I'm okay mommy." She says. Elsie says those words a lot.

Dad taps my knee. "You and Hugo may want to meet up before the speeches. Why don't you head on over?"

I nod. "Sure Dad. Last one, right?" Then I get to go work in a power plant. Yippee.

I get up from the table and start heading to the door, but Elsie barrels over to give me a hug. She stares up at me and gives me a little smile. Soft and sad, so unlike her usual grin.

"You're going to be okay too." She says matter-of-factly. As if she has all the control in the universe.

I scoop her up. She's so light. Except for that metal brace banging against my chest. She pounds her tiny fists against my back in "teasing protest."

I can't help it. I laugh. Elsie never fails to make me do that. "Yes I will be!" I shout out.

I set her down gently and she hobbles back to Dad, who gives her a soft kiss on the head.

My mother walks over and cups my chin in her bony hand.

"No matter what," She whispers, "I am so proud of my son."

I exit out the door and into the slightly dingy hallway. Like most Districts, the people of Five mostly live in apartments. Pretty much only the ones in Seven, Nine, Ten, Eleven and Twelve don't. The living places in Eight are the worst, while One is the best.

Not that I'd want to live there, of course.

Hugo and I do get a chance to meet up before check-in. He wears pretty nice looking shoes. Definitely not from the donations bucket at the orphanage. We walk in silence. We're both happiest that way. Especially today, when there's really no reason to be talking.

He almost steps in a puddle of particularly suspicious looking sludge and I'm about to start laughing when a voice cuts across the street.

"Hey, there goes the whore's kid!"

I don't even turn to look around to see who it is. I just yank Hugo's arm away and we take off running along the back alleys and side streets. No matter. We can get to our destination on time. Who needs to get near those kids? So our feet pound on the loose pavement and occasionally we slip on potholes. Streets are expensive to pave. Sometimes we have to duck to keep from running into the laundry hanging out the windows. Smoke fills the air, as always. We're out of breath pretty quickly.

We look at each other and stop at the same time to pant.

He turns to me. "Jimmy, I bet that kid voted me in."

I'm taken aback by his flat tone. "It'll be fine. At least you don't have a little sister who everybody thinks is possessed or some shit."

It was meant to make him feel better, but he only looks worse.

"Whatever." He finally gets out.

Yeah, well, this isn't really a time for "whatever."

I stare up at some long broken street light above. Apartments covered in chipped paint and boarded windows loom above it. Everywhere there is the smell of something burning. Some unnamed chemical.

Rail thin children roam the streets. They sit on concrete steps looking worn and frail. they toss a handmade ball back and forth, trying to force some kind of innocence forth. Some are covered in dirt from the mud everywhere and many don't wear shoes. Occasionally, one dressed in a thin nightgown will venture out. Even thinner than the rest. Coughing and looking longing. Those are the sick ones.

Dirty, gray and chemical ridden. This has been my home for all my life. Couldn't imagine anything beyond it, really.

"Come on." I whisper to him through clenched teeth.

"Let's go to that Square."

**Katerina (Kat) Nikolina's POV**

People are puppets.

The truth is, everyone likes to be receiving orders at some point in their lives. Order is good. And so, puppeteers are necessary. There must be someone holding those strings. Many will never even notice the kind of control being executed on them. The precise movements of the string their puppeteer can do. A slight jerk here, a pull there. And before you know it, the puppet is helpless.

Whether they like it or not, someone is pulling their strings. They are forced into whatever their puppeteers bidding may be. Jerked and pushed and forced to wear an expression of happiness. But yet, they feel pain and misery. They have no control.

It all seems rather sad, doesn't it?

Well, you would be wrong if you thought so. The truth is, everyone has a choice from the moment they are born.

Will you be the puppet? Will you take orders all your life? Will you choose a life of mundane existence? Perhaps to feel security. To feel safe because someone else is in charge. But you have nothing. You are nothing.

Or you can choose to be the master.

Seems like simple logic to me.

But apparently, not to everyone.

Ah well. It seems not everyone want to survive in our cruel little world. Now, being only fifteen, there isn't much I can do to become a "master" of anything, really. There is no place or time to demonstrate my abilities. What a shame that is. Still, my classmates know plenty about what I can do. The little mind games I exercise on our teachers are quite simple. Just get them not to give homework. Or perhaps conveniently forget about a particularly tough Math test we are supposed to take.

But they are easy. I just get them talking. Get them comfortable. I have them all wrapped around my little finger. They think I am a model student. Always hungering for more knowledge. In reality, my classmates can count on me to deliver a particularly thought-provoking question right at the end of the day, when homework should be announced. I can get the teacher to ramble on for hours, if they had the time.

Like I said; trivial.

I want something more. Something big. Something, you could say, that is life or death.

Of course I don't _want _to be in the Games. Well, at least not one hundred percent.

I mean, just think about it. Here, I am no one. A rich man's daughter in a poor district. I can choose to be like him, I suppose. Own the largest supplier of power to the districts. He is in charge of District Two, so receives a substantial sum. But more likely, the man I marry would take over and I would become like my mother. Forced to care for children. A mundane life, unknown to the rest of the nation.

But in the Games? I could find fame. Now, I wouldn't even have to win. Just do something memorable and show them all what I'm really capable of.

Not that I want to die, of course.

If you're expecting one of those sob stories, this isn't it. No, I haven't been driven to suicide by a man who beats me or a heartless mother or some kind of tragedy. I'm not an orphan or a runaway. In fact, I've got a pretty good life going right here. If not terribly boring.

I get bored. I'm only human, after all.

I swish some milk around my bowl. The grain cereal is, like everything else; the same. My sisters sit next to me. Tesla is on my right, Maxi is on my left. Just like always. Even my mother is in the same rocking chair by the window.

Vaguely, I wonder if anyone ever volunteered for the Games out of sheer boredom.

Well, probably not. I mean, there is a chance of death. Okay, who am I fooling? Death is pretty much imminent.

They only volunteered maybe because they were absolutely insane. Or distraught from a tragedy. Or a burning hatred for their district or the Capital or something.

They only thing fueling me is a burning desire to become _someone._

I put my face in my fist and stare down at my cereal swishing around. Plain, brown. Endless swirling. Always the same. Never changing.

Never changing.

"Kat, dear, are you all right?" My mother's nervous voice flutters. Scared of me. Has been for as long as I can remember.

"I'm fine!" I practically shout. The glass cabinet rings. Maxi's eyes widen. Tesla sinks down in her chair and moves to cover her ears.

"I Just thought you were going to have one of your…er…episodes." My mother stammers quietly.

"I was not!" I shout out. I get up and slam my chair against the table.

God, that woman makes my stomach turn sometimes! That stupid high, hesitant voice. How she phrases everything in a question. Not even trusting her own self.

Infuriating.

I stare at the dress laid out for me. It's simple and black. Velvet and down to my knees. She laid it out. She doesn't even trust me to choose my own clothes! I glare down at the hideous thing. And before I can think twice, I grab it and throw it onto the desk near my bed. I lift up a pair of scissors on the desk right next to the dress.

Snip.

I cut that fabric. It falls in a black, shimmering sheet down to the floor.

I stare down at it. The black is against my white carpet. All the furniture in the room is white, with a little gold trimming. Lace and fringe.

I love the way the black looks. Dark against the facade of the innocent furniture.

Snip.

I cut it again. Yet another piece falls.

Snip.

One last time, to get it all even. Everything should be exactly right.

What if I am voted in? Others are scared of me. They shy away. When I enter the room, they back away, finding other conversations to enter. Well, let them be scared. There is nothing wrong with having a little power over people.

I hold the finished dress up to myself in the mirror. The fabric ends quite high up on my thighs. Show enough to keep them looking.

And with a figure like mine, there's no reason not to. A girlish figure. Perhaps that's what some my call it. Curvy and soft. An oval face, wavy hair. Warm and bright. Someone just y looking at, you'd fell somehow attracted to.

That is, until my glare comes into view.

I will admit it. I get angry. Perhaps, yes, unreasonably so. And maybe my little "episodes" can be frightening. I broke my mirror once. The chest of drawers over there still bears the scars of me scratching and hitting at it. And I once had a dollhouse in the left corner. Once.

But there is no way I'm "unhinged."

My emotions are just a little heightened, that's all.

In fact, I am far more logical than everyone else.

More powerful too.

I slip the dress over myself and feel the velvet falling over me. I run my fingers down it.

The neckline is too high.

A few snips to fix that. I accidentally knick myself with the scissors on my neck.

"Oh!" I gasp out.

A little drop of blood forms. I lift my finger up to it. No matter. It's just a little blood. Funny though, how much fear the sight of blood can invoke on a person. Even if it's just a bit. Of course, if I had those scissors and was actually aiming for someone…

Well, there'd be more than just a drop.

It is perfect know. The neckline shows just enough to keep people's eyes from…wandering.

I leave my hair like it is. Wavy, slightly messy. Black slip on shoes.

I breeze out of the room. The scent of magnolia perfume is on me. I love the scent of magnolias. I guess it goes to show how successful my father is. No one else can afford frivolous things like perfume. Even I will admit it's frivolous. But image is everything. What must be done must be done.

As I walk past the kitchen, I can feel my mother's and sisters' eyes on me. My mother stirs with uncomfort in her chair at the sight of her…remodeled dress. I almost enjoy seeing her so uncomfortable. The way her lips purse and her eyebrows knit.

"Kat," Tesla gasps. "You look like such a grown up!"

I walk over and stroke back her hair. I like my little sisters. Love is a strong word. We are family, but because my mother and I are family, it does not mean I love her.

I do love my father. He showers me with gifts and works so hard to please me. I hardly see him though. That can be a good thing. If you see someone too much, you begin not to like them so much.

For now, my sisters are still cute. They still have that charm. Only six years old. That's the age when everyone still treats you like a little kid. But what happens when they lose that charm? When their world isn't so perfect anymore? Will they, like their mother, grow afraid? If they do, they will no doubt hate me as well.

Without a second glance back. I walk out of the building that hold my apartment. It is though, far different from most apartments. Several rooms, open windows and sunlight. Not exactly common around here. I suppose that is because people are just fine with living their horrible, mundane lives.

Doesn't anyone here ever want something more?

Later, I watch as several children wince when a speck of blood appears on their finger during check-in. It almost makes me laugh. I'm sure the ones from One, and especially Two, don't wince at the smallest drop of blood. No wonder this place can never pull a win.

I receive several looks. I assume they are because of the dress. Well, perfect. There's nothing wrong with getting attention. And I don't care what kind it is.

One boy, even younger than me, stands with his mouth wide open. He's literally gaping.

I can't resist.

I walk over to him. Slowly and surely and making sure just the hint of a smile plays on my lips.

"Better close that mouth." I say smoothly. In the slightest movement, I bend down. Well, if his mouth wasn't open before, it really is now.

"It's rude to stare." I whisper.

And with that, I slowly get back up and stride away. Never take things quickly. The more slowly you move, the more confidence you show.

Girls part like the Red Sea for me. Fifteen year old girls dressed like old women. Their skirts hang limply down to their knees. Dull colors and sensible shoes. Dull faces to match. Nothing to look at, that's for sure.

Boy, are those cameras in for a surprise should they choose to zoom in on me.

Looking around, I see that many are nervous. They shuffle, bite nails, twist hair and cough lightly. They are afraid they'll be picked. Or afraid that the person they voted in would be.

I paid no attention to who I voted for. I just selected a random name. Just to make sure I could eliminate that kind of fear. Not that I'd ever even have it.

Fear is the enemy of the powerful.

The mayor gives a speech. But he has no real power. Even my father has more than him. He just knows how to use people a little better, I suppose. My father, the puppet-master.

Puppet-master. I like that.

And then, an escort appears. Teetering on high heels, wearing a ridiculous grin on her face. She doesn't look like someone who holds power. But in reality, Celestia Starr is a master. The sow way she moves. The flourish of her hand as she draws a slip of paper. The slow drawl, telling everyone she is not to be rushed. We will have to wait all we want to hear who the boy she has chosen will be. Control. And she's got a lot of it.

She's made it into a show. Perhaps she looks ditzy. Shallow. Stupid, even. But she's brilliant.

"Jimmy Thrine!"

The utterly ordinary name belongs to an utterly ordinary looking young man coming out of the eighteen year old section. Perhaps since he was voted in, I thought it would be more exciting. Would he be a murderer? Insane, perhaps? But no. He is a slightly pale, slightly shaky, gangly boy.

Is it wrong to say that I'm disappointed?

Now Celestia draws a second slip with another flourish of her wrist covered in bangles.

"Katerina Nikolina!"

I let out a little huff. Ah, well this is quite puzzling. I don't know what to feel.

Isn't that strange? The only feeling possessing me is one of simply not knowing what to feel!

Happiness at a chance of becoming that _someone_?

Fear for the high risk?

Nerves? Apprehension? Sadness? Depression?

As I walk up to the stage, a little flutter begins in me.

Not quite nerves. But mere…excitement. Adrenaline.

As I shake Jimmy's light hand, I can't help a smile from forming on my lips. This is it. This right here. From now on, my life will be forever changed.

I let the camera get a glimpse of all I have to offer and all the dress has to show. And I give the camera my little smile, too. They won't know what hit them. A girl from Five smiling?

They will think I'm insane. They will think me crazy. They will think I'm unhinged.

Oh, but really, I am quite the opposite.

**Jimmy Thrine's POV**

Elsie's hair is wet from tears.

Her tears, my tears, Mom's tears, Dad's tears and even Hugo's tears. We lean on each other, together.

There really is no one out there on my side. It's just my family. And like I said, Hugo is unofficially part of that family.

Family, I believe, is the best thing a man can have. Maybe you'd think it might be courage, or honesty, or compassion or maybe strength. No, it is definitely family. They provide a house over you head, food to eat and clothes to wear. But so much more, too. They provide people to laugh with, to share memories with, and shoulders to cry on.

And I'm about to lose all of that.

I bury my head in my hands. In one hand, my token rests. A little brooch with a hear shape. Elsie's little brooch. She insisted on giving it to me. She loved that brooch.

Elsie sits next to me. Half on, half off my lap. The metal in her brace digs into my leg, but I hardly feel it. She has one arm around my neck, holding on. The other arm, always useless, dangles by her side. I hold her the fingers of that arm.

And in that moment, a thought strikes me.

How odd to live a whole life with a limb that simply won't work. It just hangs there, a burden to all around it. Your mind couldn't acknowledge its existence. There, and yet not there at all.

Elsie complained a lot after the huge seizure that left the arm that way. It frustrated her to no end to know that the arm _once _worked, but now quite simply didn't. She moaned and cried and carried on like any sane six year old would.

But then, suddenly, she stopped.

It was only an arm, after all. She had another. Life went on.

Still, one can't help but stare sadly down at something that was _once._

And I remember one day, not more than a month ago, I saw Elsie sitting on the table coloring. With just one arm. And yet, she looked utterly normal.

"Elsie, does it bother you that one of your arms just doesn't work?" I had to ask it. I don't why. Nobody's perfect. Maybe you'd think I was, making friends with some kid no one else would. Well, evidently that wasn't the case with my entire district. But that isn't the point. The point is, that was the kind of thing a genuine asshole would ask.

But the girl wasn't bothered. She worships me. "No." She said lightly. Then, she giggled. "It's funny," she said, "But I don't even remember having an left arm that worked."

So life does go on. An ordinary boy, thrust into something extraordinary.

Terrible, but extraordinary.

And what sort of mark will I have left? None. Maybe some guilt left in all those who voted me in. But I'd hate to get any satisfaction from that. Who could possibly get satisfaction from others' guilt?

"Mom," I choke out, sounding horribly unlike an eighteen year old, "Mom, I just want to say that I love you. It's okay."

She tries to smile between tears. "It's been years since you last told me…" Her voice trails off.

But it is, sadly, true. I grew up. And with growing up comes the false notion that you no longer need to say the words "I love you."

How untrue that turned out to be! God, was I stupid.

"Y-you'll fight, r-r-right?" Hugo's soft stutter interjects.

"Yeah, I'll fight." I try to make it sound convincing as possible. Not like the half-hearted despair it could sound like.

"Are you going to heaven?" A high-pitched, innocent question. Elsie has lifted her head heavily for just a split second to ask it. Her blue eyes plead for an answer.

Heaven? Am I going to heaven? What is heaven?

And endless infinity of happiness? Right, not alone it's not. How can heaven be heaven if I were to be alone?

"Do you think there's a heaven?"

My question was aimed at no one in particular. Elsie buries her head deeper into my neck, making my neck wet. Because she's actually covered in her own tears. Which actually makes me really sad, really fast.

Mom thrusts her head into her hands and lets out a racking sob. "Jimmy." She gasps. I hate to see her like that. Luckily, Hugo, the second son to her that he is, moves to comfort her before Dad or I can even reach her.

It's really taking everything I have not to cry. But a man doesn't cry in front of little girls and women. So I don't.

It's Dad who eventually answers. "Jimmy, while I really know nothing about anything, really, there just has to be."

"H-has t-t-to be?" Hugo questions. I'm filled with relief. I was just about to say the same.

My father nods. His hair is graying and their are dark bags under his eyes. He already looks years older.

And then, it hits me. I'm not going to grow old. Not going to see my little sister's wedding, or have kids. I'll just…stop. It's not so much the pang of sadness I was expecting, but more of a low emptiness.

It's as if the stars suddenly disappeared. Some, like in Three or One or even my district, where stars aren't a common sight, would hardly even notice. But others would be forced to confront that cold, empty nothingness every night. Devoid of comfort and light.

There's certainly no comfort and light where I'm headed.

My father clears his throat. "Yes, there has to be an afterlife." He repeats.

"Or else all this suffering down here would be for nothing."

**Katerina Nikolina's POV**

Blood red. That's the color of this carpet.

How appropriate. Disturbing and appropriate.

The door clicks open and in walks my family.

My first reaction is of vague puzzlement because my father is there. In a crisply ironed shirt and immaculate pants and shoes. Like always.

His perfection has always fascinated me. So unlike my mother's messy bun with its hairs escaping. Her hectic movements and frantic pace. So unlike my sisters' wild freedom. Rumpled clothes, lopsided grins. He is the only human I've ever met who seems utterly perfect. Eerily, almost. But my feeling for him is one of more than love. For his quiet perfection commands respect. Order.

I love order. Rules.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with making up a few rules myself as I go along. I'm the puppet master, after all. I have the control. The power.

So I'm free to make up rules, if only to keep myself sane in this insane world.

He could make an excellent puppet master too. Ah, if only he had seized his opportunity. It truly is easier than one might think. Here, I've got mine. And I've hardly even tried for it!

Luck comes to those who pull a few strings. He taught me that.

Tesla wipes her nose with her sleeve. Disgusting. Maybe that right there is way I can't say I truly love my little sisters. I want order and rules sometimes. But doesn't everyone?

Maxi sniffles. "Mommy said you're going to play a game."

Mommy? Really? I can't even remember calling my mother "mommy." Not even at that age. What do these girls see in that woman? Some day they will grow up. Appreciate rules some more. See how disheveled their immaculate mother really is.

"Yeah, I have to go pretty far away to play it." I say vaguely to her.

Maxi nods as if she's contemplating this. Maxi's very much a thinker. Bright little girl. Maybe not as bright as me when I was six, but she has potential. She's a planner and also observant. You know, the type who like to see and know everything going on around her.

Tesla's better at things like running fast and throwing a ball. But she's a whiner and, quite honestly, lacking the family intellect. She could be smart, if given the chance. But unfortunatly, things are looking like she'll just be utterly ordinary. She is very affectionate though. Clings onto me like there's no tomorrow.

My mother tucks a piece of hair behind her bun. She's tense. She always gets tense, it seems, whenever I talk to Maxi and Tesla. But she's especially tense now.

I sigh inwardly. Well, I suppose she's allowed to. What with there being a chance her daughter could die.

Well, that's what she thinks anyway. It's pretty far from what I think.

No matter. One of the most important traits a master of anything need to have is to be able to ignore what others think. Oh sure, you've got to keep careful tracks of others' emotions. You know, find what makes them tick. But ignore if anyone should say something negative about you.

In the end, they will regret it.

They will all regret it.

My mother comes over to give me a stiff hug. I don't return it. No, I'm not cruel. Or crazy.

God forbid you should call me crazy.

I just think there's nothing wrong with distancing myself from these people. Except perhaps my father. He, I've spent my whole life striving to impress. It will be hard to distance myself from him.

Well, why should I? He could be of use to me, after I win. Yes, he will be of use.

All of a sudden, my mother slips something into my hand. It's a necklace, the symbol of my district surrounded by lightning bolts.

"Your mother and I have been holding onto this for a little while. We'd like you to take it now." My father says softly.

I feel a rush of guilt. And doubt. Do I really have to distance myself from my family? Even if they may be of no use for me later? I love my father. And, though I hate her sometimes, this woman is my mother. And my little sisters…

They really do look up to me, you know.

But I know what I have to do. Even if I don't want to admit it, I will miss them, though. All of them.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

My mother unfolds her arms. "For what?"

But I can't answer. And before I can even think to answer at all, they're led away.

Her question hangs unanswered in the heavy air.

**A/N I'm sorry because I think that was a little bit shorter than the other chapters. Oh well, I'm sure everyone's excited to get to the Games. These tributes were pretty hard to write (thanks for the challenge, submitters) so I apologize if they aren't quite right. But in the end, I hope everyone reading this is horribly conflicted in choosing a favorite. Oh, it'll get even harder! Little, innocent kids, diseased and pitiful, abused and even a soon-to-be daddy! Yikes! **

**Let's get those one-shots submitted! The deadline is in a while, after the last Reaping is done. The winner gets immunity for their tribute of choice during the Bloodbath. Then there'll be another one-shot contest for immunity for the next chapter etc. This should go about until the final six. The prompt is "Stone Hearts." You can do it!**

**Another thing I'm super excited for is when the last Reaping is done, I'm gonna make a playlist for all the tributes! (Yep, I have no life.) But when you read their chapters, you can listen to their song! Can't wait and keep reading!**


	8. D6: The Lost and The Unhinged

**A/N Whew! Half way done, people! Well, if I thought those last guys were hard to write, these are even harder. So I hope I do your characters justice. Yeah, readers, you guys'll have to wait a long time to see anyone in this story who's sane. Sorry 'bout that. Well, here we go!**

**Jake Rittler's POV**

Who would possibly want to face the horrors of the place we live in?

But I can shut them out. I can enter a world where everything is softer. Harsh lines become blurred. Sharp words lose their sting. Everything is…okay there. All it takes is the push of a needle.

And so that's how I start my day. Today's just like any other. I stumble out of bed in my cramped apartment. I have a splitting headache. Nothing new. Then I search around the jumble of clothes that covers the ugly linoleum floor and fish out something decent to wear.

Nobody's gonna buy a car from a guy who looks like a dirt poor druggie.

Which is exactly what I am. So I have to try my hardest not to dress like that. It's best to stay off the morphine for a little. Just to get something on and maybe brush my hair. Which takes, like, two seconds, since there's hardly any of it. Then, I can press for relief.

Trust me, you wouldn't want to see me not on the drugs. I'd just be staggering around, looking for my syringe all the time. Real ugly.

Now, I have a little time before this Voting thing to do some business. Might be a good day for it too. Peacekeepers'll need some of those pickup trucks to rent to make sure the areas secure of riots.

Actually, there aren't too many of those around here. Most are too depressed, starving, or completely zonked out to even care. The Hunger Games have just become part of our lives. Another way kids die. But hey, there's already so many of 'em.

Just the other day, I heard Wayne talking about some twelve year old on his block that died of an overdose. Morphine, of course. And last week, he was telling of an eight year old girl found in a dumpster. Scavenging for food. Or maybe just looking for shelter from the cold night air. We just might be the coldest district. She was dead, of course.

Wayne sure does like talking about death.

He's all right, though. In those cold winter months spent in the garage, it's nice to have someone talking away while I wash the cars till they're spotless. And when I say cars, I mean just beat up old pickup trucks. There used to be a lot of other cars. Big ones, little ones, sleek ones, shiny ones. Not anymore. Now it's just gray pickups, mostly for the Peacekeepers. I'm not too sure what they do with 'em. Patrolling, maybe. Never gave it too much thought. But that's probably the morphine working there.

Wayne told me that in the past, people were always talking about all the wonder the futures would hold. All kinds of new technology. And flying cars! He says they talked about those things all the time. They'd be pretty surprised to find that we went and moved back in time instead! Except for the Capital, of course. They've got all those fancy gadgets.

Aw, too bad. But there's no point in moping.

Can't mope anyway, when you're on morphine.

But unfortunately, it looks like I'm running low. It might be for the best. Going to the whole Voting thing with all those people crowded together…not the best time to be, to put in crass terms, high. Though I assure you there will be those who are.

I trudge into the kitchen, conscious of the yellowish sag the skin on my face has adopted. So I may not find a girlfriend any time soon. Whatever. This life suits me fine.

What if she took my drug from me?

Even I will admit, it's scary how dependent I am on that stuff. It's my sustenance.

I reach for a jar of grain shoved in the back of the pantry, hoping to fix myself some flavorless mush. But there are just a few kernels left.

I sigh, No breakfast today. So it'll be doubly hard. No food and no drug. Well, no doubt I'll be heading right back for my fix after the Ceremony. Wayne always seems to have some on him.

He's no big-name supplier. Couldn't risk his job. We work side by side, and feel the same way in that sense. I'm pretty poor. I make enough to stay afloat, but morphine takes money too.

Before I know it, my hard earned cash is in his hand.

There is a difference between poor and starving. I've been working since I was sixteen to prevent the latter. So far, I've been doing okay. Growing up with a deadbeat uncle taught me to grow up fast. Getting into that whole story is something I don't feel like thinking about. Especially not on a day like today.

Not that I've ever even thought I might be chosen. But now that I've been off the morphine for a while…

Thoughts just wave on me. I'm thinking back to that other little apartment, smelling even worse than the one I'm at now. Liquor bottles lining the shelves. An uncle roaring into the room, screaming obscenities at his dead brother for leaving him with two kids.

That's right. I said two.

A young man, sixteen, sits by the dust-covered, grimy window. He grits his teeth and pretends to be anyplace else. He hasn't turned to morphine yet. He has a sister to take care of. Only seven years old and tiny. Fragile.

No wonder she was so easy to break.

As the uncle roars around, tearing things off shelves, she whispers in like the breeze. Balancing on tiptoes and ready to take flight. And she asks him a question. The boy at the window wants her to get out. To run. Hide. She knows better than to just walk in when he's like this, right? She's seven, not three.

But still, she asks her question.

"Are you drunk because you're mad? And are you mad cause you have to take care and feed me?"

The uncle sets his beady eyes on her. Tiny, a ring of blond curls surrounding her head. Blue eyed and and button-nosed, she looks like an angel.

An angel belonging in heaven. Or anywhere but with him. One less mouth to feed. One less pestering voice. One less thing to get drunk over. It would even make things better for the boy. No sister to weigh him down. None of those responsibilities for either of them.

Wouldn't things be so much easier if she just…died?

It took one swing. He simply lifted her tiny frame. Her mouth was open as if to scream in shock and terror. But she never did. He threw down with everything he had into the edge of the counter.

_Crack._

And then, she just fell. Eyes still open. Fists still clenched.

Time seemed to slow. The boy at the window lets out a long, eerie howl. He rushes at the man. Places his hands around his neck…

And before he knows it, he's all alone.

I blink slowly. Snap out of it. What would I give to enter my violet tinted curtain of unknowing? The world where everything is blurred. There are no sharp pangs of sadness for little Bridie. No dull aches for those blond curls and sweet smile. No memories of a curled up figure on my lap, giggling like mad.

For Bridie, the whole world was still a happy place. It still held wonders. Perhaps it was best to die before getting a chance to give the world a second look. She might have ended up like me.

I get to the garage just in time for the sun to make its path upwards. People have started to venture outdoors. Most of them where dirty, oil-ridden garments. Factory workers. They make anything from hovercraft engines to the windows on the trains. I know that one day, I will have to join that downtrodden mass. I'll be sorry to leave the little garage, with Wayne talking up a storm and Chevy trying to fit some studying in with her job. Chevy's the only one of us still in school. She's nearly eighteen. Says she won't have to work in the factories, if she gets enough school. Wants to be a doctor.

Stupid dreams, I know. But I could never break it to her. The truth is, I like Chevy. Really, really like Chevy.

But she knows better. I've been caught on drug offenses several times and the whole "murdering someone" thing isn't really great for the ladies either. The Head Peacekeeper, Cassius, is out to get me. I swear it. But I can't get thrown in jail or anything. I'm a minor. Well, used to be, Now that I'm eighteen, things might be changing.

Chevy's still the sweetest person ever. If not naive.

I cross the street covered in cracked gray pavement, I live in the city, where District's Six's center is. It used to be called Detroit. Wayne told me that, of course.

The garage is just down here. It has a name "Billing's Auto Shop:Rentals, Repairs and Washes."

Billings is Wayne's last name. It's his father's shop, but the old man passed away two years ago. Anyway, we just rent. No one buys cars anymore.

I walk into the place, smelling of paint and gasoline. Wayne's brown hair peeks over the side of a particularly rusty old pickup truck. He appears to be doing some kind of brake check on it.

"Hey, Jake." He shouts.

"Hey!" I say back.

"How goes it?" He says, a toothpick dangling between his teeth.

"Fine." I respond. For now, it's all fine. I'm just a little tired and maybe a little shaky. And slightly queasy. But the real withdrawal symptoms will come on by the end of the day. If I ever get back to the Auto shop ( the Ceremony could take a while,) Wayne might be the target of every bit of profanity I have to offer.

I grab a rag from a soapy bucket and run it along the windshield of the truck. "I've been thinking." I mutter to Wayne.

"Oh yeah?" The great thing about Wayne is that he doesn't mention the whole drug thing. For all I know, he's on it himself. But sometimes he can't resist dropping subtle hints that he knows something's wrong.

"Well, I was thinking about the city. What did used to be like?" I resist the urge to drop a snide comment about him knowing absolutely _everything. _Maybe those withdrawal symptoms are coming more quickly than I thought.

"Oh, it was a trash pit!" Wayne laughs sharply. "Poverty, drugs and peeled paint. Just like it is now."

"Only then, they had freedom." Chevy's lilting voice slips out from behind the truck. Like me, she must be here to make some extra money. For whatever it is doctors need. Not that she'd be a real doctor. Can't be a real doctor without real medicine.

"Even the most dirt poor of them knew that." She whispers.

Wayne scratches behind his greasy hair. He squints his eyes at her, not sure of what to make of it.

"Why don't you take the next customer, eh? They won't be able to resist a girl."

Chevy makes a face. She hates when Wayne talks to her like this. Well, she's as much of a tomboy as I've ever met. Right now though, she wears a skirt. An old jean one with ratty boots beneath, but a skirt nonetheless. A white blouse hangs a little too loosely above it.

"You look nice." I mumble.

She gives me a little smile. "Thanks."

Before we know it, a Peacekeeper walks in. It's a woman though, which is strange. Usually I'm accustomed to men. Will she be harder to convince? Chevy takes her and shows her the truck I've just finished cleaning up.

The woman nods curtly a few times and takes the keys.

Chevy walks over to me. "Pretty easy." She shrugs.

The Peacekeeper is pulling away, when she rolls down the window. I get a close look at her dull gray uniform and tight bun. She exudes a look of no-nonsense. Not the kind to show mercy should she find the syringe in my back pocket. She looks me and Chevy over.

Why?

Is she trying to see if we look like morphlings? Does she notice my yellowish complexion and glassy eyes? Maybe she thinks we are criminals. Typical District Six teenagers, high on God knows what, going out at night and doing something stupid. Maybe she knows of my murder. The one that I can't and shouldn't be convicted for. I acted in defense. Not that she would know.

How much does she know?

"You two look like Reaping age. Maybe you should head on over to the Square. You'll be late."

I give a visible sigh of relief at these words. Even Chevy looks more relaxed. We nod at her and she takes off, the motor rumbling down the street. Smoke comes from the back of the car, a smaller version of the columns of smoke entering the sky from the factories above it.

"I'm going to head on over." Chevy calls out to neither of us in particular.

I watch her head out into the street. The rag still hangs limply in my hand.

Chevy's back is turned, honey blond hair falling down her back. Vaguely, I wonder what'll happen to her. Obviously she can't become a doctor. Will she end up at a factory? In a cramped apartment, forced to watch her children starve and her husband drink away the money she's earned? Will she turn to morphine too? I just can't picture her innocent, naive face in any of these situations. It's just too sad.

I don't bother following her.

What's the use of chasing after something you can never have?

**Anna Corinna's POV**

Drip. Drop. Drip.

The spigot is making those noises again. Terrible old thing. It's enough to drive anyone insane.

Pluck.

My fingers pluck at the sheet over me. It swirls in colors. Like its own strange little world. Orange swirls, sky blue curls, violet tints. A soft world, encased in beauty and color. Blood red accents don't mar the beauty. No, they only enhance it. How could true beauty ever be achieved without a few drops of blood spilt?

I raise a hand above. Perfectly painted nails. Red, of course. My favorite color. Clean and well-washed. It doesn't take much of an effort, you know. But the effect is lasting.

Many days I find myself wishing for a shining ring to put on my finger. I have a ring, yes. But it is cold. Made of harsh black onyx, it glints magnificently. But it's not…shimmering or particularly pretty. In the Capital, they have rings aplenty. Theirs is truly a world like the strange one on my silk bed sheet, covered in color and light.

But their beauty is not without blood.

Perhaps they reached the same conclusion as me a long time ago. To have peace, control must be shown. Blood must be spilt. And so, why not that of the purest of all? Children's. The blood of those who were nothing but innocent. White and clean. Ah yes, the sight of such small ones being murdered by one another would no doubt quell any thoughts if rebellion. Surely this was the ultimate display of power. Poor, poor, lovely, pure children.

Were they ever wrong.

What they didn't realize is that not all children are like that. Not all cry at the sight of blood and wince at the smallest pain. Not all need their hands to be held. Not all can't bear to make a kill.

Or where would all the fun come in?

There are those of us who relish in the sight of blood. We know it's making us all the more powerful. We don't wince at the slightest pain. We are the ones inflicting it. No one needs to hold our hands. In fact, we're rather accustomed to having to fend for ourselves.

And we never, ever, hesitate to kill.

The Capital thinks they know where to look to find our kind. The Training Centers of One and Two. The wealthier areas of Four. Those are the Careers. The Killers. The Victors.

But we can be found in other places too.

Perhaps one may show up from Three, one crossing the thin line between genius and insanity. Or one from Five, utterly normal until he or she becomes a witness to murder. And crack. A tribute from Six, the aftereffect of drugs. A thick-skinned one from Seven, used to the feeling of an axe's handle. Too comfortable with it, in fact. You could even find some in Eight, used to living like animals and fending for themselves. Or destitute orphans from Nine or Ten. Never having felt an ounce of love in their lifetime. Searching for approval and adoration from someone. Or, perhaps, the entire nation.

So you see, you just have to know where to look.

I slip out of bed and my feet touch the wooden floor. The white nightgown swings listlessly above my ankles as I make my way to the bathroom. I have a nice bedroom. A beautiful wooden bed with silk sheets. Wood floor. Pretty, painted furniture. Even white curtains hanging on the window. Yes, far different from the bedrooms of every other girl in the district. My father is a very high-up Peacekeeper. Sent from the Capital itself. Not Head, but perhaps second in command.

However, most girls would expect a father's love and attention.

All he's given me is my own bathroom.

And, maybe, a slightly more luxurious lifestyle than the rest.

I stare in the mirror. Without knowing it, my parents have given me another gift. Looks. My angular face with its high cheekbones. Arching eyebrows and steel gray eyes. And long, very dark hair.

Not black. Hair cannot be black. But mine comes close enough.

I cannot say I'm "pretty." Pretty is such a stupid word. Meant for soft girls. Girls with curves and pasted-on smiles. Blond hair and dimples. They are pretty. I am…stunning.

I open my closet to prepare for the day's event. I will be chosen, so it is crucial that I make a good first impression. The nation will be watching.

And I know I'll be chosen because I asked everyone to vote for me. And no one ever says no to a Corinna. Maybe they wondered why. Why should a girl, only sixteen, wish to enter a fight to the death? Does she want to die?

The answer is, of course, no. I have absolutely no intention of dying, thank you very much.

But even more likely, they did not question it at all. Such is the nature of the people of our district. The children I asked knew that if I went, it meant their sibling, friend or relative wouldn't. I am no one's sibling or relative.

And certainly no one's friend.

I wave my finger the slightest bit before choosing a sea green silk top and a plain black skirt. Shoes with slight heels do just fine. Like always, I slip on the black onyx ring. It curves up in a deadly spike. Beauty. It is beautiful because it is two things. One, at first glance, merely an interesting ring. Atypical of a dirt poor district, but regular for a Peacekeeper's daughter. Then, realization that the spiked form can inflict pain strikes. It can draw blood. Just a little drop though. Not enough to seriously harm.

I just like thinking about what the ring stands for. Because that ring is me.

As I enter the kitchen, I grab a rolled-up pancake off the plate. The cook gives me a tight-lipped smile. Sort of. Not really. I have a mutual tolerance for all the various housekeepers. I suppose the only reason my parents can afford to keep them all (it isn't like we're very wealthy) is likely because they are paid an unfair amount. How could one say no to a high-up Peacekeeper and his eerily cold wife?

A woman enters the room. She wears a limp, gray dress. Her matted and tangled hair flies out in all directions.

For a moment, I meet her eyes.

She's been led in by my father. No telling whether she is a prostitute or just a victim. I'm betting on the second, though.

The woman takes me in. Hmmmm…she can't be much older than twenty. I bet the thought running through her mind is _Wait, the guy who just raped me has a kid? Poor thing._

What she doesn't know is that I don't need her pity. I am used to neglect. I have the housekeepers to feed me. A mother who buys me pretty little things. Nothing of substance. I have grown out of the time I could be treated like her doll. And so, she has simply discarded me.

It isn't as though I care.

The woman scurries away. The cook, whose name I now remember as Cadi, clucks her tongue softly. Cadi told me she was named after what used to be a luxury car brand. Must we all have car names? Well, I'm glad I don't.

Lately, there has been a surplus of Roman names. That pleases my father.

I watch the young woman's tiny form as she scurries away down the wide streets. Hardly anyone stops to give her a second glance. Young woman running from my house is a common sight.

One might wonder how my mother feels about this. Honestly, she doesn't care a mite. She has her own boy prostitutes on occasion. Though most morning, like this one, she simply sleeps in like a normal person.

It is best not to wake her. Once the smell of her magnolia perfume curls into the room, everyone in it knows to retreat. She has a glare of ice. Alessandria Corinna is not one to be messed with.

I finish off the last of the pancake. It's getting late and I have a place to be.

I'm surrounded by elbows and arms from all sides. The Square is so crowded, I'm finding it hard to breathe. A few girls give me looks. I can't exactly read the meaning of them. Guilt? No. I've given them no reason to be guilty. When I do get around to going to school, Id o nothing but twitch and wait to go home.

So I can practice with my daggers.

It's common knowledge among these girls that I have a target range in my back yard. Precisely for the daggers. I received my first set from "daddy dearest" when I was twelve. I've been…playing with them ever since.

Control. That's what they give me. I can hold someone's life in my very hands. I only need one dagger. I can choose to kill, or to let them live. If I should want to kill them, it will happen. I never miss. And when I get chosen for the Games, I will always choose to kill.

Maybe it is hope. You may think it a strange look to give to someone who will be sent to a Death Game a look of "hope." But these people are so downtrodden, they know I could win. I could bring their district honor. And food too. Because the Victor's district gets practically showered in supplies.

I look up at the depressingly empty stage. Empty of Victors. Our district has had none. None.

Pathetic.

When I win, I think I will paint my bedroom red. It will serve as a reminder. Yes, deep, deep red. One that seems to seep from the very depths of the house. Crawling, slithering, encasing everything in its path.

Yes, a red room sounds nice.

"Anna Corinna!"

That was my name. Well, of course it was.

I stride up to the stage. For a moment, everything seems to be tinted red. I blink a few times and it goes away, but it still feels as though red remains in the place just behind my eyelids.

Casanova Mink, the escort waits for me up on the stage. A large smile filled with glittering rows of straight white teeth flashes. Teeth bared, she looks like a wolf. If the smile were just a bit wider…Ah yes, the subtlest change in appearance can change everything, can't it? Yet this smile is merely interpreted as a little too wide, and perhaps a bit too happy. Instead of a psychotic predator.

Much like many of those Capital citizens.

As she walks over to to read the slip containing the boy's name, I become entranced by her outfit. It is composed of countless gold sequins. They form a glowing, glittering mass. Light glints off the jacket. Shimmering jewels circle around her throat. Upon closer glance, I see them to be emeralds. I love emeralds. Deep, gorgeous green. Like the very earth itself, unmarred by factories and dust. Smooth and perfect, they rest in a neatly formed pattern. Perfection is an important element for me.

Perfection is what I strive for.

And that necklace is the very essence of perfection.

I would kill to have Casanova's outfit. In fact, I probably would.

She goes to the microphone and calls the name out in a booming voice.

Jake Rittler.

I haven't heard of him. He walks out of the eighteen year old section. At first, one might think I should be worried. He is older and bigger than I am. But his complexion is sickly and his very knees buckle under him as he walks up. He has the "deer in headlights" look to him. Wide, glazed over brown eyes and messy clothes. He is a druggie. A morphling. That much is clear.

No, he won't be any competition at all. In fact, I doubt I would feel any guilt at all in killing him.

Not that I would would feel guilt after killing anyone.

I stare at the crowd of onlookers. And I imagine them all in red.

Soon, I will be seeing nothing but red.

**Jake Rittler's POV**

My leg has suddenly gotten really jerky.

I watch as it moves, a mind of its own. Maybe it got a mind of its own cause the brain I have is so trashed up by morphine now.

Well, I won't be able to turn to that anymore, will I?

I wonder if heaven in anything like a morphine haze. Soft, pleasant. No more pain. Everything tinted in colors too gentle for the real world.

The door creaks open. Wayne creeps in. His footsteps are soft. For some reason, I hate that. Normally, his steps are heavy. Long and low. He usually saunters across the room, without a care in the world. Acts like he owns the place. Maybe he'll even slick back his hair. If a girl walks by, he'll give her a wink. He's cool and collected. And, above all, confident.

This Wayne just looks serious.

His toothpick still dangles between his teeth. But he is wringing his hands together and biting his lip so hard I worry blood will appear. He slowly, carefully, removes the toothpick and sticks it in his pocket.

"So?"

So? That wasn't exactly the greeting I was expecting.

"Uh…what?" I splutter.

Wayne runs a finger through his black hair. "So is this it then, boy?"

To be honest, I'm not sure why he calls me "boy." He's only a few years older than me. But he's called me that since I started working for him.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He heavily takes a seat on an ottoman in front of the couch. I've never seen so much nice furniture. But it's only going to get nicer after this.

Wayne heaven a sigh and gives a little, rattling cough. I notice some grease stains on his jeans. In fact, he probably still has his rag in his back pocket.

"You know what I mean." He mutters.

He takes a look around the room. His eyes stop at the window and again at the Peacekeeper at the door. Wayne's eyes are gray. Sharp and alert and altogether very unlike most in the district's. He sniffs, coughs again, and then clears his throat. He shuffles his feet and looks around again. And then he just stares at his hands and breathes heavily.

Needless to say, Wayne doesn't like silence.

"You're a real good worker, Jake."

"Yeah?" I smile.

"When you're not higher than the moon."

I almost laugh after that one. Almost.

"Hey, do you have a token?" He asks.

"Huh?" What the hell is a token?

"You know, it something the tributes can bring into the arena to remind them of home and their district. I don't know, like a necklace or a watch or a picture. Something like that."

"I'll probably just take the needle from my syringe." I say flatly.

Wayne raises his thick eyebrows almost comically. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Well, it's supposed to represent the district, isn't it?"

He nods. I wish I could capture this moment. Him looking so intense, lost in thought. Maybe a little confusion mixed in with his eyes. Curiosity. He's no longer feeling sad or depressed. No, he's just waiting for an explanation. One of his fingers plucks at some dead skin on his hand. His nails are greasy and grimy. But that's a common sight here.

"Nothing says District Six like a morphine needle."

Wayne gives a sharp laugh. "You do that, Jake." He chuckles softly.

Then, the mood shifts again.

"Am I the only person whose come to visit you?" Wayne's steel gray eyes are suddenly filled with pity. And I hate it. I hate pity and I always have. And always will.

"Yeah." I say curtly.

He holds up his hands, as if to show surrender. "All right, all right. Just wanted to make sure somebody cam."

"And here you are."

Wayne frowns. "You could stand to show a little appreciation, you know. I walked all the way here for you."

I sigh, feeling slightly guilty. "Okay, fine. Thanks for coming to wish me a good death."

"Now don't go talking like that!" Wayne suddenly shouts.

"Oh yeah, why not?" I stand up. "Why can't I talk like that. I'm going to die, Wayne. And I'm going to be one of the first ones to do it. I'll get sliced up to little bits. Decapitated. Severed. Little parts of me will spew everywhere. Blood will splatter on the grass and on my killer's face…"

"Jake!" Wayne shouts again, cutting me off. He looks down at the floor. "Okay, you aren't trained. Fine. Just don't go down without a fight. Run, if you have to. Do whatever you can do to stay alive for the longest time possible."

"What's the point in delaying the inevitable?"

Wayne shrugs. "Cause it'd kill me to know that you just gave up."

**Anna Corinna's POV**

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocket full of posies_

_Ashes Ashes_

_We all fall down_

We all fall down. Hmmm. Yes, I suppose that is true.

Except for me.

I don't fall down. I won't fall down. The nation will know my name. I will be remembered. And I will be remembered for accomplishing one of the greatest feats known to man. Everyone will chant my name.

_Anna. Anna. Anna._

I can already picture it. Crowds gathered in the Square, finally able to celebrate about something. Cheers rise into the air as I arrive. I wear a stunning red dress, down to my ankles. It revels the harsh, angular form of my body. Makeup makes my cheekbones stand out. The lipstick is, of course, bright red.

I let out a laugh. Oh, it is all so perfect!

The man at the door, a Peacekeeper and likely one of my father's trainees, shifts nervously. Is he scared of me? Well, he has some sense if he is. Once the very first minute of those Games is broadcast, the nation will join in his fear.

Now, what shall my strategy be?

Starting at the Bloodbath, I will grab a dagger. A lovely, silver blade. Perhaps one that curves up delicately, letting the sun glint off it surface. Preferably two. When I go in for a kill, my victim's face will be reflected on it. Their eyes opened widely and their mouth frozen in a scream. And oh, how I will relish that first kill! Because, then I will know that I am on my way.

I will have just taken the first step.

Then, I may stay and grab some supplies. I will not take off like a coward. I have been training. I can take on a Career any day. They lack something crucial, after all. None is so desperate to redeem their district's glory as me. Their districts already have glory. They need no more.

I need it. I have to get it. My whole district is counting on me.

They voted me in for a reason, didn't they?

Well, I won't let them down.y

After the Bloodbath, I'll find a little den. A place to rest and to hide. But it isn't so much as to hide from predators. No one in their right mind would hunt me down. It's to hide from my prey. So I can stalk them in the cover of their own naivety.

One big game of Hide-and-Seek.

I run my fingers along the crushed velvet of the sofa. It's such a lovely little feeling. Perhaps one day I'll have my own house filled with crushed velvet sofas. I lean back into it and sigh. It will be my last time I can afford to relax in a long time, so why not relish it?

It is hard to believe that by this time tomorrow, I should be in the Capital. The place exploding with colors. Like…like a candy shop. Yes, exactly like a candy shop! Oh, and they sure do have some goodies in hold for me, don't they?

Ah well, my parents haven't come. Alas, Daddy Dearest is probably still in bed, recovering from a hangover. Or the events of last night. Lord knows where Mummy is. At some other man's house, maybe?

I am not sad. I will myself not to think about them.

Imagine their surprise when I come home! They will find that that I won! Oh, they will have such pride. It was their child who became the district's only victor. Imagine.

And maybe they will begin to show some affection for me.

Not that I care, of course. No, not in the least.

Not in the least.

I play with the ring on my finger. How long have I had it? Well, it isn't mine at all. I stole it from my mother's jewelry box. She won't miss it. She prefers pale, pretty colors. So soft and gentle.

And so unlike her.

I think I stole it when I was ten, maybe eleven. Not long before I began playing with the daggers. The little set presented by Daddy Dearest. One of the many things simply tossed my way without a second glance.

_Here Anna, have this lovely little dress._

_Here Anna, I got you a doll._

_Here Anna, take these shoes._

And yet never a kiss was offered. A slight little breeze of affection on my cheek. Never was a hug given. An envelope of warmth. Those were what I'd never had.

But soon, soon I will. What choice will they have? Their daughter has just won a tremendous battle. Gave a terrific fight. Had blood spilt by her hand. I know if I were them, my heart would swell with incomprehensible pride. And…dare I say, love?

I lean my head against the back of the couch and smile. It's all coming together. After this, my whole life will change. And it will change for the better. Everything will work out. everything will be…perfect. A beautiful, red-tinted perfection.

My district is depending on me. My life depends on this.

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocket full of posies_

_Ashes Ashes_

_I won't fall down._

**A/N Wow. That was hard. I have some good news! I've compiled a playlist for the tributes! When their chapters come along, try listening to their song. If you don't like it, that's cool. Just give it a try!**

**And I'm going to say the same thing about the one-shot contest. **

**Song List:**

**Adonis Lockheart- Give Me Love by Ed Sheerhan**

**Kaja Thomas- Shake It Out by Florence And The Machine**

**Julian Moretti- It's Time by Imagine Dragons**

**Shimmer Parker-Fighter by Christina Aguilera**

**Jace Ignis- Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine**

**Aya Brow-If I Die Young by The Band Perry**

**Markus Wade- Nothing to Remember by Neko Case**

**Violet Callo- Kingdom Come by The Civil Wars**

**Jimmy Thrine- Landslide by Fleetwood Mac**

**Katerina Nikolina- Take the Heartland by Glen Hansard**

**Jake Rittler- Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix**

**Anna Corinna- Distrubia by Rihanna**

**Raen Coleman- Ghosts by The Presets **

**India Gyfer- Arms Of The Angel by Sarah Mclachlan**

**Casper Monroe-Stars by Grace Potter**

**Keira Thyme- Abraham's Daughter by Arcade Fire**

**Gavin James- Ruler and Killer by Kid Cudi**

**Thorn Kingly- Dog Days by Florence and the Machine**

**Howleen Jennings- Never Go Back by Grace Potter and The Nocturnals**

**Oak Zully- Dark Days by Punch Brothers**

**Violet Leprois- Come Away by Maroon Five**

**Gav Little-Run by Snow Patrol**

**Jezebelle Holden- Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift**

**Cadence Basil- Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men**


	9. D7: The Haunted and The Light

**A/N Like I said, even more crazies to come. But my ultimate goal is that you guys actually get attached to the tributes, no matter how insane they seem. So here's Raen Croele brought to you by UnicornDevil and India Gyfer by GigglingGummyBear. District Seven happens to be one of my favorite districts. Now, we're exiting the city atmosphere for pretty much the first time.**

**Raen Croele's POV**

It is so cold here.

It seems for my whole life, all of seventeen years, I've been nothing but cold.

Although really, the cold started four years ago.

I was reading late at night, like any other. An old adventure book I was proud to have, given our slightly more affluent status. No other children could have books. I'd left the candle on, for light and warmth. And then, I fell asleep. With the candle still on. But there was a huge spider hanging above me. I saw it because of the light from the candle. Embarrassed by the rather girlish fear, I slowly slinked off to sleep on the couch in the living room.

The candle was still burning.

A flame somehow ended up catching on the book, which ate up the wooden desk, and then my wooden bed. All while I was safely asleep on the living room couch. It spread along the wooden floorboards and into the hall. and on the curtains. And then, s spark caught on the bed sheet of my parents bed. The wooden picture frames were incinerated all along the walls. Which were, of course, wooden.

The whole of District Seven is very, very flammable.

The rest is history. I heard the screams coming from my parents' and siblings' bedrooms and I ran.

I didn't even look back.

They died that night. Well, of course they did. That is a fact. The entire house was destroyed, with them still in it. There is unique about that story. Many an orphan in this place is the product of a house fire. I see them all the time. Often, they have scars. And, for some reason, they are quite intent on keeping those scars covered. Because, yes, more often than not they were the ones who caused that fire. Accidentally, of course. But I am part of a majority of the population of orphans. A candle was left on. A mistake was made. A fire was the result.

Nothing strange or different about that. But there is one thing…off. One thing very, very wrong with me. And with the whole thing in general.

I still see them.

They are dead, but yet I see them. I can't say why. I can't say how. There isn't even a specific time they come. I hate it. I hate how they have a knack of showing up at the worst of times.

I lay over on my side, entangling myself up in the white sheet. I kick at for a second. It's so uncomfortable. But then I stop. If someone is watching, they might think it's violent behavior. That I'm having an "episode," as they call it. They have names for everything.

And I am always being watched. It is, after all, an insane asylum.

Sure enough, one nurse dressed all in white stands right at the door, holding a pile of clothes.

"Better get up." She snaps at me. "You overslept. The Ceremony starts soon." She dumps the clothes on my bad, spins on her heel, and walks out.

I sigh and push myself up on my elbows. Time for the cruelest ceremony of all time to commence. It is absolutely horrific to make us _vote _for who we want to die. Vote? Honestly. I just jotted down the name of someone I barely knew, a name without a face, you could say. I've only seen that person a few times, and always surrounded by friends. Younger, too. He won't be picked.

But, needless to say, I don't see much of anyone in this place.

I currently reside in the Adolescent Area of the Insane Asylum. Or Mental Hospital, if you're feeling kind.

No one here calls it that. It's not a hospital. A hospital is where you go to get better. You get treated, people visit, you take some medicine. And then, you get better. And you go home and go back to your normal life.

Not here.

Once you're here, you're here to stay.

I've been here for nearly a year now. I stayed in an orphanage for a little while. It was terrible, to say the least. I know a guy here who faked insanity just to get out of one. Who knows? I might have done that too. Just the weird way my mind works. Anyway, I got sent here from the orphanage partially because it would mean one less mouth to feed, and partly because I am legitimately insane. Yes, I know I am. Not like a lot of the kids around me. The adults are even worse.

I try to get them to go away. I don't want to see them anymore. At first, they provided something to hang onto. Now, they are nothing but a nuisance.

I groan as I move out of the bed and to the small mirror at the corner of the room. Like all the mirrors here, it's covered by a thick plastic sheet. To keep us from breaking the mirror and hurting ourselves. There's no brush in sight, so I do the best I can with my fingers.

A slightly disheveled teenager stares back at me. There are bags under his eyes. He's thin. Not "healthy" thin, but really thin.

And then, I see her in the mirror. Right behind me.

I can't help it. I jump a little.

"Did I scare you?" My sister drawls. "Poor baby."

She wears an ugly, crooked smirk. It's a facial expression I'm sure she never wore while she was alive.

I take a deep breath. Tell her she doesn't exist. She's only a figment of my imagination. I can make her leave. I will make her leave.

"Go away, Karma." I growl.

She clucks her tongue and pouts in an exaggerated way. "Oh, is this any way to great your big sister?" She gestures to the clothes on my bed. "Today's the big day."

With those last words, her face morphs into an insane grin.

I hate this. I hate seeing this demonic version of the girl I loved so much. Sometime, I can't tell the difference between hallucination and reality. I have to force myself to remember a good time. A good memory.

"Maybe they'll vote you in." Her voice drops to an icy whisper. "You deserve it."

"N-No I don't."

"Oh, Raen. You sound so unsure of yourself."

And with that, she is gone.

That's how it works. She, or Brink, or mom or dad, or even all of them, will appear. They'll taunt me and remind me of the reason they died. And twist my mind.

They are nothing like they were in real life.

My father was a gentle, patient man. He was a carpenter and provided for his family well. Brink, at sixteen, was following in his footsteps. He was a little simple-minded, but generally well-meaning and had a talent for painting. If ever there was a request from a wealthy Peacekeeper for painted furniture, Brink took on the job. Karma, his twin, had a temper that flared up at the very mention of the Capital. She was everything a girl from Seven should be. She was strong-willed, tough and a fighter. Unlike Brink, she was sharp as a knife. She teased us all a lot, but in the most loving way possible.

As for my mother, she was as patient as the man she married. She had a pleasant, slightly round figure. We were always more well-off than our neighbors. Tradesmen always are, and we made good business with the Peacekeepers.

But they are dead now. Karma, Brink, Ash and Hannah Croele will never see a District Seven sunrise again.

I put on the khaki pants, which are too big. The green shirt is too big as well. But the brown shoes are too tight.

Sighing, I go out in the hallway and go toward the Meal Room. The hallways here are composed of freezing, stark white tiles. There is a metal counter, just there, where medicine is handed out. Well, that's what the counter was built for. We haven't gotten any medicine in a long time. That stuff has to come from the Capital. And they aren't exactly the most generous people out there.

Or maybe a building full of psychos in a poor, outlying district just isn't their top priority.

Maybe I'll meet up with Birch and Esther, who I suppose you could call my friends. Birch is prone to strange fits of screaming and delusions. But when he's sane, he's perfectly sane. Esther has, well…she's screwed up. She has this whole multiple personality thing, I think. There are three of them. Two of them are kind of normal, but the third is basically a psychopath. Then there's Mouse. I'm not sure what her real name is. It might be just "Mouse." Or a nickname, considering the fact that she doesn't talk. Literally. Oh, and she'll just slip into this completely blank face at times.

But they're okay. I swear. Well, most of the time.

Sure enough, all three sit at a table together. Mouse is new, but we've taken her under our wing. Her dark hair falls into her face as she eats. At twelve, she's the youngest of us. I have absolutely no idea how old Esther is. She's one of those people who just looks like she could be any age. I mean, she's tiny but…developed. You know what I mean. I wouldn't be surprised if you told me she was thirteen, nor would I be shocked if you told me she was older than me. Birch is sixteen.

I don't why I've taken this little pity party under my wing. Needless to say, they aren't as bad as a lot of the people in here. I don't know. I'm starting to think I might have chose Birch because he reminds me of Brink. Just a simple, nice guy. Esther is a lot like Karma. You know, when she's not completely insane and trying to stab me with a fork or something. She teases a lot, and is prone to sarcasm. As for Mouse, I don't know, maybe I just like taking care of people.

As I sit down at the cold metal table, Esther slides a bowl of oatmeal to me.

"Thanks."

She shrugs. "Birch got if for you."

I pretty much figured. One of Esther's personalties is super angelic and sweet, but that's her most rare ones. Go figure.

I mumble my thanks to him and sit down. "So are you guys going to the Ceremony right after this?"

Birch and Mouse nod. Mouse stares at her oatmeal with an intensity that makes my heart sink a little. Esther just sits there blankly. Could it possible she's even older than eighteen? Oh God, no way. That'd just be too weird. Besides, then she'd be in the Adult Ward.

Birch twirls his spoon. "Hey Raen, do you think one of us'll get voted in? You know, because everyone thinks we're all psycho murderers?"

Esther lets out a harsh laugh, like glass falling. "That's your problem. I actually am a psycho murderer."

Ooookaaay, and there goes all my feelings that things will get better. I am sitting next to a murderer. And actually not freaking out. I mean, come one. That just puts a new meaning to "lowering your standards."

"No, Birch." I say firmly. "You didn't do anything. And as for Mouse, she's only twelve. Nobody could vote a twelve year old in."

I see the corner of Mouse's mouth turn up into a smile.

"Hey, did you know oatmeal is good for your skin?" Birch pipes up randomly. Leave it to him to change the subject. The guy hates anything morbid. Or sad. Even if he did bring it up himself.

Even Mouse raises her eyebrows at that one.

"No really." He presses. "The people from the Capital spread it all over themselves.

Esther stares down at her oatmeal.

"You are not about to do what I think you are."

She grins up at me. "Oh, but I am."

Before I can shout out, half in shock and half in laughter, she's smeared oatmeal all over my forehead.

"What the f-" But even before I finish, I plop some onto her nose. She gasps and blinks slowly. For a moment, I'm actually afraid she's going to jump on me and snap my neck. Insane Asylum life. But she just grins. Then even wider as she flings some onto Birch.

Before we know it, Esther, Birch, Mouse and I are in an all-out battle.

A glob of oatmeal ends up in my lap. Mouse flings one into my hair, wearing an expression of shock at what she's just done.

But I just grin at her, and lob a spoonful right smack dab in the center of her forehead.

"You call that aim?!" Esther shouts at Birch.

He chuckles. "Well, look at it this way, darling. Your ear will be so smooth and moisturized now!"

I nearly fall back in my chair at that one.

"I' look just like a gorgeous Capitalite, don't I?" Esther cries out, in a terribly hilarious and accurate attempt at their accent.

We stare at her, slimy brownish gray oatmeal in her air and coating her face. Some drips off her ear and onto her shoulder.

And we lose it at that one.

We're laughing so hard, we don't even hear the nurses shouting.

One of them angrily tries to wipe some out of Mouse's hair with a napkin, while one is shaking her head at Birch, and the other is looking at Esther and me, obviously unsure whether to laugh or scream at us.

And then, Mouse laughs. A soft little thing, like a breeze. I almost want to laugh myself. Her head is thrown back, in a moment of pure joy.

It hits me then. I've only got one life. And I don't know how long it'll last or how awful it'll be, but I have to make it count. So why not laugh while I can?

The nurse behind me, the unsure one, suddenly makes up her mind. After mouthing a little "Thank You" to me, she lets out a roaring laugh.

**India Gyfer's POV**

I can see the first rays of sun coming up through my window.

It's morning. I love mornings. District Seven mornings are the very best of all.

I stretch my arms and swing my feet onto the chilly wooden floorboards. They creak a little as I stand up. But not too much. I'm little, that's why. I'm twelve years old, but only a little over four feet and less than seventy pounds. But I like that. It means I'm quick and quiet on my feet.

Just on schedule, Mom comes up to help me pick an outfit. I don't have a lot of clothes, but that's okay. I don't need clothes to feel happy. I don't need anything to feel happy, really.

"Good morning, India."

That's funny. But not ha-ha funny. There are two kinds of funny. There's the one that means "it's okay to laugh" kind of funny. And there's the one that means "it's kind of weird" kind of funny. It is definitely not okay to laugh at that one.

Aven taught me that. He is a good teacher. I think because he is seventeen, that makes him very smart.

"Good morning. You look sad." I have to squeeze those words out of me. Even then, it doesn't sound quite right. It sounds like I'm trying to talk underwater or something.

I did that once. Daddy took me to the pond in the forest behind the house. We walked all day and I was so excited. I went into the water. Oh, it was so cold! But it felt so good and I went under right away. I wanted to shout out with happiness from under there. Show all the fish how good I felt, and maybe make them happy too.

I love making everything around me happy.

But when I tried to shout, all that came out was a strange little noise and a wall of bubbles. I tried again and again. My lungs started burning, and I thought that was kind of funny because…how can things burn underwater? Then I laughed because that sounded like a joke or a riddle. I could fool Aven with that one. So I laughed even harder, but it was very hard to laugh underwater. And then it got dark and cold and scary down there and I was still burning. I decided I didn't like it so much anymore at all.

Daddy had to pull me up and rescue me.

I feel like that now. Like instead of me talking, all that ever comes out is a strange little noise and a wall of bubbles. Except maybe not the bubbles.

Mom just sighs a little. I think that means she's not happy. Bay told me that. Except I think he was mad at me. Bay gets mad at me a lot.

That makes me almost sad, but then I think that all he needs is happiness. So I try to make him smile.

But that only makes him madder.

"Some people, India, you just can't please."

That's what Daddy says. But "Can't" is a bad word. There should be no such word as "Can't" Because I do not like that word. And there aren't many things I do not like.

"Today is the big day." Mom says.

I nod. The Big Day. It is my first Big Day. What it means is that I, and all the other kids from twelve to eighteen, go to the Square. We all crowd together and listen to some speeches. Then, someone's name gets chosen. They got voted into a Game. and if they win the Game, they get lots of money and get to be famous.

I'd like to win a Game. I've never, ever won anything. Back when I still went to school, we played lots of games. But I tripped a lot or laughed too much or I just didn't get the rules. I Don't Get a lot of things.

I bet lots of people wonder why I think some words should have big letters. I just think they should.

Because I Didn't Get a lot of things, Daddy and Mom pulled me out of school. But nobody cares about school, so that was okay. I like being home with them all of the time. With them, it doesn't matter that I cant very well at all, or that my words sound so jumbled.

Nobody ever calls me a Retard.

That's what they called me at school. Which is why I probably won't get voted in.

Oh, and Bay calls me That Word sometimes. Aven gets mad at him for that. They're just one year apart, but really, really different. Aven like playing with me and is patient. Bay isn't patient. I'm his Burden. With my Angelman Syndrome, I am always a Burden. That's what it's called. I think it's a pretty name. Angelman Syndrome doesn't sound terrible at all. Still…it means I can't Do Things Right.

It is not fun to be someone's Burden.

Finally, Mom decides on a pretty blue dress. It's bluer than the sky! I wish I had blue eyes. Mine are brown. And my hair is black. But I like my eyes and hair just fine. They're mine, so that's that. Mom helps me take off my clothes, but only a little. Sometimes my fingers just plain don't work at all. Like my talking. I have a Result in my mind, but the Result just doesn't happen.

I have to sit straight up on the bed while Mom braids my hair. Her fingers work so quickly. I love that feeling. Whenever she's around, I just feel so Loved. (If you ask me, Love should be in big letters all the time.)

Cause Love is the best thing there is.

When she's finished, Mom holds up an old mirror so I can see me. I look so nice! My thick hair is in a braid starting from the tip of my head and going just past my shoulders. The dress goes right above my knees and has a sash tied into a ribbon. It's made of ordinary cotton, but I think it's beautiful.

I clap my hands in approval, which makes Mom smile.

Everything is going Well this morning. If only I could get chosen for the Game.

Mom leads me by my hand as we walk down the stairs. That's because I fall sometimes.

"Everybody falls, India." Daddy always says. "We're only people, after all."

I get to the bottom of the stairs, hanging on tightly to Mom's arm. Half from excitement and half because I don't want to fall and ruin the dress.

Daddy sees me right away and beams. Beams. Oh, I Love that word! But he is beaming, with his eyes all lit up like the sky first thing in the morning.

"My Sunshine looks so beautiful." He whispers.

But I see a little tear falling out of his eye. Why is Daddy crying? Is he sad? I Hate crying. I Hate sadness. (If you ask me, sadness should be little every time.)

Cause sadness is the worst thing there is.

"Why you sad?" I force out of me. Oops. I forget the "are." Oh, well. Who cares about the "are"?

He shakes his head. "It's just that I'm so lucky to have a girl like you. And I wish everyone could see that."

"Daddy!" I give him my biggest, bestest hug. He's such a good Daddy. I know a lot of girls don't have such nice Daddies. But, like he said, we're all very lucky.

"There's no breakfast today, India, but we'll have a special treat when we get back." Aven calls from the kitchen. That's fine. A lot of times we don't have breakfast. Sometimes no dinner either. I don't like that Hollowness feeling I get when no food is in my tummy. But I know Mom and Daddy try very hard. Mom does the laundry and cleaning for anybody who can afford Luxury. And Daddy works in a paper mill, with Bay.

Mom turns to me. "Do you want me and Daddy to come with you?"

I know that Bay and Aven are already coming with me. But I really want her and Daddy too. So I nod.

And so we walk out of our house and onto the gravel path. I hold Daddy's hand tightly. His mouth is in a tight, thin line. He looks sad. Or mad. I have No Idea why. But I have No Idea about a lot of things.

On the gravel path we walk on, I can see the tops of all the trees. The Forest is huge. Then, the path turns into a dirt road with houses like ours lining it. Little, cozy log cabins. I like them. They look like they're smiling. I look over at Aven, who isn't smiling. What can I do to make him smile like the cheery cabins? The people going out of their house don't look Happy either. But I can make a Difference by just making one person Happy, right?

"What burns underwater?"

Aven turns his head to me. "What do you mean, India?"

Bay has that Look on his face. The Look is the one where he looks all tense and tight. Like a bomb going to explode. He gets The Look a lot of times when I talk.

"Me." I say, answering the riddle. I want to say "lungs," but I can't say the "ung" part of it quite right. "Me" is just easier to say.

But Aven just shakes his head. "I don't Get It."

I frown for a second. This wasn't the Result I wanted. He doesn't Get It. Maybe now he feels like I do.

That thought makes me feel a little happier. He feels like I do!

Eventually we get to the Square, which is all overgrown with plants. It smells kind of musty and fresh. And I like it a lot.

Mom walks me to get a needle in my finger. Which hurts. But I'm too nervous and excited to care. There are children and people everywhere!

"Retard!"

The Word comes from behind. Aven whirls his head around, trying to see who shouted it. But he can't. Can't. What a bad word that is.

I think I might Hate that word.

Can't and Retard. Those are the only words I Hate, I think. And I just heard them both.

I can't help it. I start bouncing on my feet a little. Not happy kind of bouncing. More like I Want To Run Away Right Now kind of bouncing.

Bay is getting The Look even more deeply now.

"Shhh…India…It's okay." Daddy whispers in my ear.

But it's not Okay! I still want to Run. Away. Right. Now. when he brings me to my spot. I have to stand with lots of other little girls. Well, not quite as little as me. They give me smaller version of The Look and part for me. That is okay. I do not want to get hit and squished with their pointy elbows and mean looks anyhow.

I feel a little Lonely when Daddy, Mom and my brothers have to leave me. But then I realize that they are still here. They're right behind me!

Besides, the speeches are starting!

I don't Understand most of those speeches. Then there is a video, with a big loud voice talking behind it. It shows The War. I think it's a War, at least, because there's lots of fire and people shouting and crying. It is not a happy video.

I am wondering why they showed this video. Why show a sad video on such a Happy Occasion? We are going to play a Game and the Winner gets to be rich and famous! That sound very, very happy to me. I bet whoever is chosen will be so happy they jump up and down.

But I will not be chosen. Everyone thinks I can't Win.

They don't know that I Hate that word! Can't does not exist with me.

There, the man up front in looking at a piece of paper. I think that means it's time for the Choosing?

Oh, who will it be? Who gets to so lucky? Who gets to Win?

"India Gyfer!"

Me.

They picked me. They really picked me.

My hands fly to my mouth in surprise. I am practically bouncing from excitement as I go up to the stage. _Slow down, India. Take a deep breath._

But I can't slow down! I've been Chosen!

Suddenly, I'm on my hands in the dirt. I fell down the stairs going up to the stage. A flurry of whispers choruses behind me. Shaking, I stand up. It is okay. I am okay. I turn to show everyone that I Am Okay. Except my hands sting a little. And my knee hurts quite a lot.

I walk up anyway and try not to walk with my usual funny limp. Not ha-ha funny but It's Kind Of Strange funny. But maybe all the people won't even care. They've Chosen me!

After what seems like Eternity, I make it next to the escort, who is wearing very bright clothes. They're happy clothes. I'm glad someone wore happy clothes, because below me everyone is wearing dull clothes. With dull faces to match.

"Raen Croele!"

The lady shouts out the name of the Chosen Boy. He comes out from way back with the older boys, right near where Aven stands. I can see Aven right now! But he looks so angry…

Does he Not Like this boy or something?

He comes up to the stage, and I think he looks pretty nice to me. Maybe he's a little scared. But it's Okay to be scared. After all, we Have to Win. (Have should be in big letters. No exceptions.)

We've been Chosen. Everyone out there has Faith in me. India Gyfer. They Know I will Win for them. Because I am so grateful that they chose me.

Besides, there's no way I Can't win.

Can't Doesn't Exist anymore to me.

**Raen Croele's POV**

"We saw that coming, didn't we?"

Brink's voice curls out of his mouth, sharp and icy.

Karma stand next to him, mouth poised in a smirk. "Like I said earlier, you deserved it. Thanks to you, I'm stuck at sixteen forever. Isn't it strange to think that when you die, you'll be older than your big sister?"

I force myself to keep my mouth shut. The Peacekeeper is right there and Birch and the others could come in at any moment.

But it is strange. It's very, very strange.

Birch suddenly walks into the room, followed by Mouse. She looks as lost as ever, while Birch's eyes move around the room madly.

"They did this to you!" He shouts. Mouse moves her hand up to her ear, but it just sort of freezes. Her brown eyes travel along the floor, taking in the slightly faded brown carpet.

"Who's they?" I ask absently.

He flings his arm out. "You know. The normal ones." He spits out those last words.

I stand up. "It's fine, Birch. Calm down. What's the point in sitting here being angry? They just picked the name of some random kid they knew was in an Insane Asylum. What can I do about that?"

Birch chews his lip. "Whatever." He grumbles.

"Where's Esther?" I direct the question, more softly, to Mouse. She's never talked. Fine, it's not like I expect her to now. It's just that I probably will never see her again. So it might be nice if she said something. If she could, that is. Or maybe that's my motivation to try to win. Get Mouse to talk.

In the end, Birch answers for her.

"She had another one of her episodes." He mumbles.

"Was this a trigger?"

When you've been in an Insane Asylum for over a year, you start talking what Esther named Crazy Talk. Appropriately so, I guess. Crazy Talk doesn't mean the babbling speech a lot of the Crazies go off on. It just means the way the nurses and others talk about the Crazies. It's compiled of a series of euphemisms. Triggers are basically the things that can make someone go, well, insane. My delusions, Birch's fits of screaming, and Esther's psychosis all fit under the category of an "episode."

"Yeah, I bet." Birch answers the question, bringing me back.

"What happened?"

Birch shuffles nervously. Even Mouse looks like she'd rather be any place other than here. The feeling is mutual, Mouse.

"Well, after you were picked she just got, like, really calm. But on the way back she kind of attacked on of the guards escorting the Crazies back."

"She _kind of _attacked him?"

Birch clears his throat. "Um, no. She actually did. Started screaming and clawing at him and anyone else around, pretty much. Mouse and I got out of there in the knick of time."

"You think they'll put her in a straightjacket?" The thought of her tiny form in that thing makes me sick. But it won't be her first time in there. In fact, just about all of us have been in there at one time or another. Like I said, it's not a Mental Hospital. Nobody there bothers trying to make anyone better. It's just transitioning from torture device to the next.

I've been in the jacket exactly once. And once was enough. It cuts into you and makes you feel like there's nothing worth living for. That, and the fact you're in this desolate gray room is enough to make anyone insane. The Great Irony of the Straightjacket, as Esther calls it. She has a name for everything in that hellhole. Legend has it, she's been in there from the time most girls were still playing with dolls.

I can't say I'm not glad to be out of there. After all, I'd be spending the rest of my life there, for sure. One gray or white room after another for the rest of my days.

It's not like I'm suicidal. It's just that…sometimes you have to know when enough is enough. And it is torture. Treating kids like that. Innocent Mouse wouldn't ever hurt a fly. And yet she's been through all the terrible things at that place as I have.

And Birch. He's so warm and friendly. So what if he has screaming fits? It's not like they last forever. And he's like a sweet, caring older brother to Mouse. He tries to hide it, but he loves her like a sister. I've seen how hard he tries to get a smile out of her. He doesn't deserve any of this either.

And lastly, Esther. Surrounded by white walls, straightjackets and emptiness for as long as she can remember. Who locks their kid away in the first place?

At that moment, I realize that I know strikingly little about these kid's families. Or lives before they got locked away from the outside world forever.

"Hey, Birch?"

"Huh?" He shakes himself out of the spaced out haze he was just in. An old Asylum habit. Just act completely zonked out so the nurses don't get suspicious. Most give up trying to prove their sanity after a short time, anyway.

"Since I might not, er, come back, do you think you could tell me what your family is like. Because, I really don't know you guys at all."

"Oh." His brow creases for a moment. "Okay. Mine isn't all that exciting. I started getting those screaming episodes after I fell out of a tree and hit my head when I was twelve. My parents brought me to the Insane Asylum only after delusions started happening. They were decent, I guess, except my father was an alcoholic."

He pauses. "As for Esther, I think she tried to kill her brother in one of her episodes. It didn't work, but needless to say her family doesn't want that one around anymore. I've heard that even before the incident, they kept her locked up in this tiny attic room under inhuman conditions. So she went even more psycho because of that."

Whoa.

"And Mouse?"

Mouse retreats back, covering her chest with her arms. Obviously, she's not telling.

"Hey Mouse?"

She lifts her head up, peeking out from a curtain of dark hair.

"If I get back, will you talk then?"

She chews her lip in thought. Then, to my pleasant surprise, nods her head enthusiastically.

So that's that, then. I finger the old watch resting on my wrist. My father's old one, still bearing some black marks from the fire, but otherwise unscathed. A thought slips into my mind. If I win…will the spirits stop coming? Will my delusions cease? Maybe then my sick, twisted mind will realize that I stayed alive for a reason.

And if I die, I'll end up in a place where the true memories of who my family really was will resurface.

I'll be with them forever.

**India Gyfer's POV**

My heavy Heart is beating out the same rhythmn.

I can hear it very well. Maybe that is because it is so quiet in here. I do not like the Quiet.

A big clock ticks. It is right up against the wall and made out of wood. The hands swing around the numbers. I Don't Get how to tell time. I Don't Get why anyone would want to bother learning. What does it even mean? What is the point? Pretty soon, numbers would be all you ever thought about.

Time.

Sometimes I Wonder how much of it I have.

Mom holds me close to her. I can hear her Heart too, right along next to mine. She just wraps her arms around me and says nothing. I think she is so sad because I will have to take a long trip to play the Game. I have never, ever been away from her before.

It is Okay to be scared, for her, I think. But it is not Okay for me to be scared.

I run my finger through her hair. It's soft. I bury my head in it and sniff. She smells like wood and moss and sunshine.

"Don't worry." I struggle to get out. "I will remember the smell of your hair."

She smiles down at me, softly. Not like Daddy's Beaming. No, it's not that kind of Beaming. Daddy's smile is sunshine. It warms me right up. Like…a sunbeam. So Mom's smile is a…

"Moonbeam!" I shout out, touching my finger to her lips.

Her eyebrows crawl together, like little caterpillars. "What do you mean, honey?"

I gesture to her lips excitedly, but then I see The Look on Bay's face. So I let my hand fall limply back into my lap. Sometimes, I won't get the Result I wanted. Things that make perfect sense to me make no sense to everybody else. But it doesn't matter!

I'm just so happy I got Chosen! I bounce up and down on the seat and my arms wiggle a little.

Daddy puts a hand on my shoulder, which makes me stop wiggling for a moment. "India," He says is a his Serious Voice, "Why are you so happy?"

Why? Why not?

"Why not?" I say the words as clearly as I possibly can, but it still kind of sounds like bubbles.

And then, Daddy smiles. But not his usual Sunshine Smile. A Moonbeam Smile, like Mom's. Sort of sad. Oh, I Hate sad!

"That's my girl." Daddy says. He runs his finger down my braid, just like I did to Mom's hair. "That's my beautiful girl."

Aven clears his throat. "Where you're going, India, it's going to be a lot different from here."

I perk up. "I know!" Of course it will be. In the Capital, there will so many amazing sights. Big buildings, happy faces and bright colors.

Aven blinks a whole bunch of times, really quickly. "Yeah, well, you just remember us, okay? Never forget us, got that, India?"

I Don't Get what he means, but I still nod. That is what I do when I Don't Get things sometimes. Bay looks over Aven's shoulder at me. His Look is a little softer now. His big brown eyes are wide at me.

Before I know it, his arms are around me.

I thrust my arms around his neck. Oh, this has made me so, so Happy! Bay never, ever hugs me. Aven does sometimes, but not Bay. Right now, I don't feel like his Burden at all. I just feel like his little sister. I wish I could just stay like this, in his arms Forever. I never, ever want to leave.

But I Have to. I Have a Game to play.

So I give him another quick squeeze to tell him that I am done. And it will be Okay.

Daddy gives me a hug next. "I'm going to miss my little Light." He whispers.

I squirm. How can I tell him not to miss me? That I will be right back. And when I get back, we will be rich. We'll have a big, cheery house. Not like our little house surrounded by trees and covered in their shadows. I will have a house that is surrounded in nothing but sunlight.

"There is Sun!" I force out.

Mom, Daddy and Aven laugh. I even see Bay crack a smile. I do not Know why they are laughing. But I am so glad to see them finally Happy. They all look so nice when they are Happy. Mom's eyes wrinkle up and Daddy throws his head back a little. Aven's shoulders move up and down like me when I bounce. And I just feel a wonderful Togetherness feeling.

"Yes, India, there will Always be Sun." Bay says slowly, Daddy pats his shoulder.

"Always." Mom says.

So why do I see a little tear come out of her eye?

**A/N All submitters should read the playlist and PM their feedback. I have a special plan for tribute deaths, and if you think you have a better song for your tribute, let me know right away!**

**Everyone, whether you submitted a tribute or not, PLEASE SUBMIT A ONESHOT. **

**Pretty please?**

**Honestly, I'm not going to beg for reviews or anything, but I will beg for oneshots. Yep, that's how I roll.**


	10. D8: The Torn and The Vengeful

**A/N Moving along, folks. I hope I've been a good SYOT moderator or whatever they're called. Even though my updates can't be lightning fast, I've tried to make them as regular as possible! Our tributes are Casper Monroe by MissBunburyHope and Keira Thyme by Ruetheday. I seriously love both these guys and I hope you do too! (Prepare for some feels. Sad feels.)**

**Casper Monroe's POV**

I should take advantage of the quiet while I still can.

In just a little more than two months, I'll be woken up by screaming cries. And then, time will fly right by. Those piercing wails will become laughter and the sound of small feet running. And a sweet voice calling out.

_"Daddy, time to wake up!" "Daddy, it's morning!"_

But am I ready for that? Am I really ready to become someone's Daddy?

I rub my hands over my face and let them fall limply back onto the bed. Elorica thinks I am. She always says that I'll make a wonderful father. That this little girl is certainly a lucky one. Unfortunately, Elorica is an unwavering optimist. While it is one of the things I love best about her, sometimes it would be nice to have a little brutal honesty.

Right now, Elorica stands at the stove. She's wearing a plain, loose-fitting brown dress. One of her hands, adorned in a simple, gold-covered rope bracelet, stirs something in a pot. The other rests on her protruding stomach. Her hair is in a bun with a few brown strands falling in front of her eyes. She smiles slightly as she concentrates on stirring.

Everything about her glows. Come to think of it, she hasn't gotten much of that morning sickness stuff or anything that could go wrong. And she's never, ever looked happier.

And when she's happy, I'm happy.

I shift in the bed to get a better look at her. The beige sheet twists with me.

"Smells good."

She flashes me a grin. "You know, Casper, it doesn't really take a master cook to make some grits."

I sit up, letting out a soft groan. I'd do just about anything for a softer bed. This one is falling apart and thin. But the sheets are well-washed and the pillows always clean and fluffed. Elorica is an excellent housekeeper. Now, with the baby coming soon, I've actually done some housekeeping myself. And you know, I'm not half bad at it either.

Elorica spoons some grits into a bowl.

"Casper," She says softly, "You should probably get ready."

I stare at my feet, dangling slightly above the cracked linoleum floor. She's right. I should start getting dressed. But there's nothing in this world I'd rather not do.

No place I'd rather not go.

"Hey," Elorica whispers. She walks over to the bed and sits down on it. The bed lets out a soft, creaking moan under her newly gained weight. She sighs a little.

"Hey." I say back.

"It's your last year. You just have to get through this one. And then, you me and the baby can go on with our lives."

"But this year is different. It's like…it's like a living hell."

"I know." She whispers, more to herself than to me.

I rub my hands over my eyes again.

"Elorica, I'm just so glad you're already too old for this thing. As long as you and the kid are safe, everything will be fine."

But she can tell my heart isn't in the words I'm saying.

I am glad that she doesn't have to go through all of this. And mainly that's because I'd be scared stiff that she'd be picked. Marrying an orphan with absolutely nothing to offer is very, very frowned at here. The reason for that is that everyone is so poor and desperate, it's just plain stupid to marry someone even worse off than you are.

Unless of course, you were in our situation.

We met when we were just kids. Really little kids, in fact. We were in the same first grade class and sat right next to each other. She'd never noticed me, but I suddenly became desperate to be her friend. Maybe it was because her life just seemed so solid. She had a Daddy who swung her around and a Mommy who held her hand on the way home from school. To a little orphan being raised in a place with inhuman conditions, that was all it took to impress me.

That, and the fact that she was both incredibly smart and incredibly nice.

It was easy. I just asked her to play with me at recess and invited her to sit next to me at lunch. That was all it took.

We've been inseparable since.

We were best friends for most of my school years. Playing tag, having races, running around the rotting and crumbling playground at school. Now that I think about it, we have a lot of memories at that place. The first time she beat me in a race. The first time I scaled the play-set, to cheers of my class mates.

The first time we kissed.

It's gone now. I walk by the Primary School everyday to go to work at the factory. The playground has been gone ever since I was Reaping age. (That was also around the time Elorica and I found that we could be, well, more than friends.) I guess the old thing just rotted so much it tumbled right down. The kids used to joke that it was probably pre-Dark Days. Which was the oldest thing we could imagine.

Well, Elorica's "Mommy and Daddy" weren't such perfect parents after she announced she was going off to live with me. They stopped talking to her entirely.

But one thing that makes this whole thing work is that she and I hardly ever talk about our past.

She's heard the rumors, of course. And I have to say, they are true. The orphanage doesn't feed its children. It receives no funding. What money it can get, somehow disappears in ways that it isn't supposed to. There wouldn't be food in our bellies, but an orphanage worker might walk in with a pair of shoes that weren't completely worn in.

God forbid you should misbehave.

For that, there was the cage. Bad children were something no one wanted to deal with. They weren't going to get solid jobs anyway, at the rate they were going. Sometimes, they'd be locked in that thing for days. Without food. A few times, a child lost consciousness. Then there were a few really unlucky ones.

One less mouth to feed.

If the "bad kids" who got "caged," as we called it weren't already psychologically screwed up before there little time out, you could be damn sure they would be by its end.

And so, the place was crawling with psychotic children.

There were a few stages. They went like this:

Stage One was when the kid just lost interest in everything. They went to school, as was required, but couldn't hear a thing the teacher said. Their eyes got a dull sort of quality to them. I would see them walking slowly, staring at nothing. Usually, they were very, very thin. Frequently caged kids got that sort of luck to them.

Stage Two was when the first signs of anger showed up. They wanted revenge. The kids would start to realize how much they just wanted this hell to end.

Stage Three was when they found that they had the power to make it end.

Needless to say, there were no more stages.

There are char marks all over the orphanage. For some reason, fire is a popular method. For those kids, they don't just want suicide. Oh no, they want their tormentors to be dragged with them. The people who ran the place.

I don't recall anyone ever succeeding. But that's not the point.

The point is, it was not the place for a kid to grow up.

We don't talk about it. But, needless to say, I am all the more determined to make the baby's childhood a good one. At least, the best it'll get here.

"Cashmerete!" Elorica bursts suddenly.

I laugh a little at this. It's become a game.

"Too fancy." I say.

"Lacey?"

I shake my head.

Elorica nods, agreeing with me. "Ugh, you're right. Too common."

She sets a bowl on the table. While it cools, I quickly throw on some pants with no noticeable tears in them. I know I should eat quickly. I should just go to the Square, get checked in, and get it all over with. Except something tells me that this won't be over quickly.

And so I find myself in the baby's room.

We already know it's a girl. It cost quite a bit, but I splurged on getting an ultrasound for Elorica, just to make things are all right. They are.

The apartment only has two rooms. That's all right, since most only have one. Even if this second room is tiny, hardly more than a closet. The main room is much bigger, but still very cramped. Our saggy bed leans against the back wall, behind the couch which passes for our "living area." A rough table stands in the center, with two simple chairs. And in the right corner, a little kitchen.

The baby's room is a soft peach color. The paint was a little expensive, but no matter. This little girl will spend a lot of time in this room, so it might as well look pretty.

In the corner, a rocking crib rests. I built it myself. The wood came from Seven. Which, even though is the right before in numerical order, is actually quite far away from here.

We are definitely not known for our trees.

But, cost aside, I am proud of that crib.

"Casper?" Elorica calls softly.

I feel her footsteps follow me into the room.

She rests her hand on my shoulder. "Eat something now, okay?"

I nod absently, staring at those peach walls.

Without warning, Elorica suddenly bursts into tears.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her as tightly as possible. She buries her head into my shoulder and sobs and sobs.

And I let her. It's perfectly okay to cry. After…all of this. We've been wronged. Betrayed. Left alone.

Before I can stop it, a tear slips out of my eye too.

It is always hard to part with Elorica. Wherever I'm going, I instantly begin to miss her smile. The way her hair smells like what I can only describe as sunshine. HEr golden rope bracelet, always dangling from her wrist. The way she plays with it when she's nervous.

How she likes her grits cold.

The way she throws her head back slightly when she laughs.

We just stand there, wrapped up in each other's arms.

Our tears falling and mixing with each other's.

And, sad as it is, I feel a sense of togetherness with her.

One I might not feel in a long time.

**Keira Thyme's POV**

I hate this place.

I hate the darkness. The way the dim light of the factory has a way of creeping on me. The suffocating feeling I get with no windows in sight.

The dullness of the gray skies. Even the sun sheds nothing but pale light. Here, it doesn't do its job. It is just a grayish white light behind clouds, taunting us below who are so desperate for light.

I hate the whir of the machines. The constant, lurking danger they bring.

_Did you hear about little Lucy? Only six and already working. The machine caught her pigtail. Ripped her scalp clean off._

_Or Tommy Evans? _

_Yes, what a shame. Two fingers lost. Their goes his family's income._

_How about Calico Blanche? _

_Oh, yes. Her. Can't even blame the machine on that one._

_No, you can't. Starvation, that's what it was. _

_Sure, that was an accident ready to happen._

_Full-out lost consciousness. The worst thing that could happen in a factory._

_Especially in front of the Slicer._

Lucy. Tommy. Calico.

I worked right along side 'em. All were younger than me.

We'd go to school, because that was required. But only two, maybe three times a week. That part was hard, because I liked school. It was hard to miss an important lesson. It's sort of funny, 'cause now there are all kinds of gaps in my mind. Like a little kid's mouth. Being thirteen, my times tables are pretty solid. Except for the sevens. I was absent in second grade the day everyone learned it. I'd just started working then.

I know that chloroplast in plants' cells is required for photosynthesis. But I couldn't tell you what the heck that is. Or how I know how to spell pretty well, but I don't know how to read all that well, really.

Well, I like the learning part of school anyways. It's the rest of it I hate.

It started in the third grade, when the rest of the kids began to notice that I cared a whole lot about washing my hands and making myself look presentable. Or that I actually wanted to learn. When I came, that is. How I always wore my hair in two immaculate braids and, though my clothes were no less ratty than the rest of theirs, I tried to keep mine free of stains.

At first, the names weren't real bad. Sometimes I was "dork" or "nerd" or my personal favorite, "Miss Prissy Pants."

But then it got awful, really fast.

There were nasty notes saying I was "too uppity for my own good." Kids laughing and whispering about my mother, who didn't work. "A family of lazy, snobbish asses." I heard that one a lot. I guess that one might have gotten to me the most.

Then there was the whole "brother is an idiot" thing.

All of those things hurt like knives. And sure enough, hate started bubbling up right along with 'em.

But they didn't know one thing. They didn't know that the only reason my Mom can't work is 'cause she has an awful back problem. She was born with it curved all the wrong way. And we can't afford any medical help to get some kind of brace or something on it.

I cannot deny, though. My brother is an idiot. An arrogant, headstrong brute of a boy. That's what Dad calls him.

I hate those kids. I hate 'em all, except for Mimi.

Mimi is my best and only friend. But then I hate those kids even more 'cause they are just downright awful to her to. The worst thing is, they think they can just get away with it. And the reason for that is cause Mimi and I don't fight back. We just stand there, blinking. Trying to ignore them.

Mimi said it would work. She said "Don't get mad, Keira. Just ignore 'em and keep your head held high. That way they know they haven't beaten you. You aren't down to their level."

I like Mimi well enough. And she's awful smart. But she was wrong. Dead wrong.

So far, I've just been walked all over. And not just walked all over, but trampled on. Trampled on by those hateful words.

And I'm angry at the fact that everyone still thinks I'm the "sweet little girl that everyone can take advantage of."

So I'm walking to the Square, weaving in and out of busy, narrow streets. And I'm letting all that anger sit in on me.

Now I'm thinking how angry Grandma Twill would be if she knew how full of hate I was. She'd likely give me one of her long-winded lectures from her favorite rocking chair. Grandpa made that for her. Grandma Twill would call me over closer and speak in all gentle words, patting my hand as she went. That's how her lectures go. She starts off all stern and "I mean business" but ends up all mushy towards the end of 'em.

Grandma Twill just can't feel hate, I think. Because, if she saw the things I saw and heard the things I've heard, it'd fill up in her like rusty water from the pump.

It has with me.

I kick a pebble. It makes tracks in the dust. Of course, the dust has a grayish tinge to it. From the factories belching out smoke. I stare up at the sky and I'm thankful to just be outside. Never mind that there isn't a tree or blade of green grass in sight. Never mind.

Anyplace other than the mill is heaven. Any place where I'm not threading things into the jaws of some monster called a machine. Nimble fingers. And a quick mind. That's what you need to survive. Gotta think on your feet, is what Dad always says.

And now that I think of it, those are the exact same things needed to keep you alive in the Games.

I'm sure people think that nobody from here could ever win. And they haven't. Yet. But most of us have those abilities already instilled on us. We know the meaning of danger. We brush at it each and everyday. We aren't afraid of death. We've stared at it straight in the face. Heck, we spend our whole lives dancing with it.

I sure know what it feels like to be starving. There's a difference between hungry and starving. When you're hungry, you might get some of those short, sharp hunger pains.

With starvation, it never ends.

You just kind of slow down. Can't do nothin' but sleep. And even then, you can't sleep quite right.

When you finally get some food in you, it feels strange. Like it doesn't quite belong.

Then there's water. It's awful to not know when it's next gonna come. Most of the time, the sinks just aren't working. Then I'll get sent out to the pump and get rewarded with a tiny, rust-tinted trickle.

And some hellish stomach pains right after.

Bad water. Bacteria. Disease.

So if I can survive that, I'm already a fighter.

I was born one.

Check-in isn't bad. A single drop of blood means nothing. Not since I've spent my whole life surrounded by it. As I walk to the center of the square surrounded by concrete buildings and broken glass, where the thirteen year old girls are, I think about the voting. Who could it be? It's no easy decision to make. Well, it was for me.

I picked Duroy Jennings, the worst of the worst. The word "bully" isn't enough to describe him. More like "tormentor." I remember how satisfying it felt to write down his name. I put it on that paper in big, bold strokes. Black on white. And it is black and white, when I think of the simplicity of it. One word. One slip. And maybe that's what it will take for me to rid him.

Oh, he would die. Most certainly. I've never met anyone in my thirteen years who was more of a sniveling coward than he is. He only picks on me cause he thinks I'm a weakling. Just a little runt of a girl. Someone who actually likes going to school.

Somebody who can't fight back.

Oh, is he ever wrong.

I'm just waiting, Duroy. I'm biding my time. And then…you'll see. You'll all see.

But how would I feel? Joy? Well, it is death. I don't think there'd be joy. But relief, maybe. Or just hollowness.

I can still picture the funny looks the people standing around the voting area gave me. How I was writing that name down so furiously. Hey now, we're voting people to their deaths.

Might as well mean it.

Now these speech things, they're bad. The escort tries to look all proud, standing above us all like that. But he's just talking to a bunch of empty faces. Some younger kids are even crying a little. Cowards. Bet they aren't mill kids. Mill kids don't cry.

Just don't know how anymore.

Behind the escort, there's just an empty stage. That means we haven't had any victors yet. I think that means the mentor has to come from the Capital. That's actually lucky, as far as the tributes will have it. Means their mentor won't be in an alcoholic stupor or a morphine haze.

I'm getting real fidgety right now, listening to that stupid video and all.

Now, I'm hoping for Duroy Jennings, but I haven't got a clue who the girl might be. Maybe a prostitute or something? Girls too lazy to work in the mills, is what my classmates say. Well, that's mostly Duroy. The truth is that sometimes they had an accident. Or somebody they knew did. And they just have the sense not to go back.

Guess I don't have that sense.

Or maybe I just need the money real bad. Which I do.

"And now, the gentleman volunteer for District Eight!" The escort shouts.

I don't feel a mite bad that I can't remember his name.

"Casper Monroe!"

A pretty large looking guy walks up to the stage. He came out of the eighteen year old section, which explains the size. I don't know him at all, really. Wonder what he did to get voted in. It sure is too bad the name wasn't Duroy's. That means this guy has to go instead of him. And I'm sure whatever Casper did isn't as bad as what Duroy's done.

Well, maybe I'm not completely sure.

Still, he looks utterly normal. Ah, that's too bad. I was hoping for someone at least a little exciting in that sense. At least.

I don't even notice the second piece of paper being drawn.

"Keira Thyme!"

**Casper Monroe's POV**

I hold back a sob.

Elorica's been doing enough of that already. She's curled up on the couch next to me, completely in a heap.

And I could ask myself why. But she's been doing enough of that too.

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

"I-I can't believe this!" Elorica splutters. "How can people be so cruel?"

"Ellie," I mumble. "If there was no such thing as cruelty, these Games wouldn't exist."

She sighs in defeat and buries her head into my shoulder. I rub her back. Little circles every which way, the kind she loves best. She's always telling me it feels like I'm making a little painting on her. She says it's like I'm making something nice out of her pain. Something good out of something bad.

"Remember how you always say you believe in taking the bad things in life, and turning them into something good?"

She raises her head a little, her eyes red and puffy. "Yes. But this is…this is too horrible."

"Too horrible?"

Elorica nods, a look of questioning filling her eyes. Good. I have her, if just for a moment. I've taken that terrible grief and pain out of her. Even if it is just for a second, she's just curious. Waiting for what I'm going to say next.

"Tell me, Ellie, what the meaning of too horrible is to me."

A pause.

"Or to any orphan here, for that matter. All the things we've seen, all the trauma we've been through. First, I watched my mother collapse from that mysterious water-born illness. I could count all her ribs the night she died. Or how the very next morning, I awoke to my father hanging from the rafters. But it didn't stop there. More starvation, more illness. An orphanage that was more of a hellhole than anything else."

Another pause.

"It never ends."

"What doesn't?" Her question comes out thin and wispy. I notice that three of her fingers are linked tightly in mine. She must have done that while I was talking. Maybe I shouldn't have said those things. Shouldn't have scared her like that. But there's no taking it back.

"What I'm saying is; Ellie, death doesn't discriminate. It touches everyone. Grief gets to everyone."

"But haven't you seen enough of it?!" Elorica practically wails.

"I don't know." It's all I can think to say. She's right, after all.

"It was all so perfect." She whispers.

"Too perfect." And maybe I'm correct. What I had with Elorica was just so good. We had a cozy little apartment that always smelled like her sunshine hair. I had a good, solid job fixing the machines at the mill. It payed even better than the regular jobs. So much so that Elorica only has to work five days in the week. And she'll get a whole month off because of the baby. I saved up for it.

There was that pretty little peach-colored room, with it's wooden crib. Long, hot nights spent in front of the projection machine, watching Capital shows when signal got through. Laughing at some parts, crying out in anger at others. Shouts and promises made in the dead of night to shelter the baby from anything to do with the Games.

I was gonna be a Daddy.

"Hey," I say to her softly.

"What?"

"You're right. What we had was perfect. Nothing can change that."

Elorica takes off the rope bracelet around her wrist and gently slides it onto mine. So gently, in fact, that I hardly feel anything.

"I'm going to need a name." Her brown eyes gaze up at mine with a look of intensity.

"I don't know, Ellie. I can't think of any good enough."

Her lips curl up. There! She's almost smiling. Just because I want to see the way her eyes light up when she smiles, just this time, I offer her the most sincere smile I can manage.

And then she does it. She really smiles. "Go on, admit it." She says. "You have a name in there somewhere. One you think is absolutely perfect."

"Actually, though you might think it's dumb, I really like Star."

"Star." She repeats, testing the way it sounds. I almost feel my face starting to get red.

"I-If you don't like it, that's fine."

And then, Elorica laughs. I can almost see a little spark coming from her. "I love it!" She shouts.

"I, ummm, I just thought it reminded me of how we used to go to the roof and look at the stars. You know, us being overly-sentimental kids and whatnot."

She gets a distant look in her eyes. "Oh, I remember."

I lean over to her ear. "Love you, Ellie." She loves when I do that. Always did. Said those were her favorite words in the whole wide universe. And when she said that, I always laughed for some reason. Then we'd laugh about it together, about how "love" is the most overused word ever.

"You put up a fight, got that Casper?" She says, somewhat suddenly.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." My answer is somewhat empty.

"I want Star to know that her Daddy was a fighter. Or maybe…a Victor."

I give her a smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes. One thing's been bothering me.

"Tell me, Ellie. How sad are you going to be? I couldn't stand the thought of you just never…I don't know, moving on, I guess."

A long pause. Silence settles in on the room. She fingers for her bracelet, before realizing that she isn't wearing it anymore.

Suddenly, she sits up and gives a long, low sigh.

"If you die, at first sadness is all I can feel when I'm thinking of you. Maybe I'd take little Star up to our roof, and we'd look at those stars together. And I'd tell her all about you. I'd look at those stars up there, twinkling so cruelly. I think I'd wonder why they could be so bright, when everything for me is so dark. But time will pass. And I'd feel a mix of grief on my heart, but a little happiness when I start talking about those good times. The best times, really. And everything won't seem so dark anymore. I'll realize that grief isn't what you'd want."

She brushes some hair out of her eye, but I end up doing it for her.

"And someday," She continues. "Someday when I'm old with gray hair and Star's all grown and all this time has passed, I'll look at those stars again."

"And?"

"And I'll smile, Casper. Because it happened. Because you happened. There won't be any sadness at all anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because for one, brief shining moment, I had real happiness. And hardly anyone can say that, can they?"

I nod.

"The stars and I, well, we'll have a good laugh. Cause just for a little while, I had you. I had just a spot of perfection."

**Keira Thyme's POV**

There is nothing I hate more than seeing people cry.

So a room full of crying people is pretty much my idea of a personalized hell.

My mother is all curled up in a heap on a sagging chair in the corner, while my father rubs her back trying to comfort her. Nice try, Daddy, but it isn't working. He's trying to bite back tears. That fact is plain as day. Grandma Twill is dabbing at her eyes with a piece of cloth, but tears make a steady flow down her weathered face. It reminds of a river, flowing through crevices.

Naturally, Flax, my brother, just stands to the side. He looks completely lost. For once, he's silent.

And that makes me feel…hollow somehow. A silent Flax means that something is definitely wrong.

Grandma Twill rests her wrinkled hand over mine. "It'll be all right." She whispers.

Like I need her soothing me or something. Of course, she still thinks I am nothing but a little girl. One who needs protection. One who can't fend for herself.

"It was a coincidence." She says angrily. Surprisingly so, for her.

"I know." I say. And I do. Because to everyone, I am weak. They simply voted for me because they thought no one else would.

Pure coincidence.

And yet, I'm quite sure it's fate.

That fact just can't be ignored. Here I was, letting hate stew inside me and wishing I could do something about it. I was just standing there, wishing I could show people how strong I can be. And how, one day, I would show them all. Make them all feel so much regret for how they treated me.

And here I am now.

Funny, isn't it? Fate favors the ones who want something the most of all, I think.

I want this more than anything. I want to win.

"Don't be scared, Keira." My mother whispers as she moves toward me.

"I'm not."

She covers her mouth with one hand, while tears slip into it. "Oh, you're so brave. Yes, that's right. You'll fight them. Won't you, Keira?"

"Of course."

My father lifts up a mousy brown strand of hair out of my eyes.

"My little brown-eyes will fight with every ounce in her." He says in his soothing, gruff voice.

"They won't know what hit them." I feel a little smile coming on my face. My father is right. And he's just made me feel even stronger. It will be all right. I am going to come home.

"You come right on home to us, won't you?" Grandma smiles, a little sadly.

"In a huge train looking better than ever, I will."

Dad pats my back. "That's my brown-eyes."

Suddenly, Flax lets out a sound between a laugh and a snort.

"This is ridiculous!" He shouts.

"What is, Flax?" My mother's wispy voice is shaking even more.

He gestures to me, his muscular hand flinging out from his side. "She can't possibly win! Why are you even talking about it?"

"Flax, hush now." Grandma Twill's voice has a note of warning in it. She's trying to seem authoritative. But I can see her hands fluttering. She's wringing them and the fingers vaguely scratch at her palms. She even twists her wedding band. And I can see her brown eyes, the same ones as me, holding a single note of fear. It's plain as day.

If I'm not buying it, Flax certainly isn't either.

"Well, don't give her false hope or anything." Flax says flatly. "We might as well just say our goodbyes and cry and hug her and be done with it."

"Flax!" My mother gasps. "What a thing to say!"

He shrugs. "It's the truth. She knows it too. She's just sitting there."

"She in shock." Dad growls.

"I am not!" I fall back in the couch and it makes the sort of huffing noise I'm actually feeling right now. I don't need Dad to stand up for me. I'm not going to have my Daddy to hold my hand where I'm going. He's not going to be there to carry me away.

Flax takes a few steps back, signifying that he's not part of this anymore. Whatever "this" is.

Grandma Twill suddenly stands up, a little wobbly on her feet. She pulls something out of her pocket.

A weathered, dusty old piece of paper.

Quietly, she moves over to me and presses the wad into my hand. "Your token."

"Mother, what is this?" Mom asks.

"Shhh…just let her look at it."

So I do. I squint at the words, marching across the page in neat, curved lines. Grandma's writing. It's a poem. But I can't figure out where she got it from. Hardly anyone has poems anymore. All those type of things were lost years ago, before the Dark Days. Before the Districts even came to be. Oftentimes in school, the teachers will talk of days past where poets crafted stories as beautiful as the best fabric itself.

But I've never seen one before. Not a real one, at least. Not ever.

_Just like moons and like suns,  
With the certainty of tides,  
Just like hopes springing high,  
Still I'll you want to see me broken?  
Bowed head and lowered eyes?  
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.  
Weakened by my soulful cries.  
Out of the huts of history's shame  
I rise  
Up from a past that's rooted in pain  
I rise  
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,  
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.  
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear  
I rise  
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear  
I rise  
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,  
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.  
I rise  
I rise  
I rise. _

"It-It's really beautiful, Grandma. Thank you." I whisper, still clutching the paper.

"I couldn't find all of it. It was my grandmother's and there were pages still missing. I got it when I was even younger than you."

She stoops down to give me a little kiss on my cheek.

And then, they're whisked away.

Flax's head is down. My father's feet scrape the ground as he clutches my mother's sobbing form. And Grandma wrings her hands. Still afraid. They're all so afraid.

They don't have to be. I'm coming home.

Just like the moon and the stars. Like the dust too, just like the poem says.

I will rise.

**A/N I apologize for that one taking longer than the rest. It took me a while to get it just right, so hopefully it'll hit you right in the feels! The poem is Still I Rise by Maya Angelou, who is my favorite. **

**There's a poll on my profile to vote for which alliance you like best. Hurry and vote on that, even if it's still early. You'll get internet cookies! Or at least the alliance with the most votes will stick together the longest. Here's hoping you agree with my alliance choices.**

**Woohoo! 50 reviews! You guys, that's just incredible. I am so happy I have readers like you.**


	11. D9: The Callused and The Secretive

**A/N We've just begun to enter the outer districts. So, starting with Eight, the people are poorer and the hatred for the Capital is growing. Well…in most cases. Here's a character from Thomas J. Flynn called Gavin James and a spitfire of a character called Thorn, written by Forget-to-Breathe. **

**Gavin James's POV**

Children shouldn't die.

It's just not the way of things. It's just not right. And, while it is hard to explain why that's so, I can give a valid reason.

It just seems to me that everyone should have a chance at a full life. If you could call this place any kind of living at all.

But it's also because of the innocence of them. A child can't do anything to get enemies. Real ones, anyway. No on can truly _hate _a kid. They're just a kid, after all. They're pure. They mean well. Largely untouched by the terror of the outside world, they live in a kingdom of light. No hatred.

After all, children are incapable of hatred, right?

But at what age does one stop being a child?

My natural answer would be somewhere between sixteen and eighteen. Around the age I am now. When children begin to think of marriage and raising children of their own. When a job is handed to them, and responsibility thrust on them. When they begin to take off and remove the screen of innocence and look at the world with a new light.

Or…lack thereof.

This isn't the case, though. As much as everyone wishes it was, it isn't.

There is no childhood here.

It doesn't matter much, but I stopped being a kid years ago.

On mornings like this, working in the open sun, I often go back to that day. I try to force it away, of course. It's best not to think at all when working. But memories have a way of sneaking up.

I'd do anything to keep this particular one from slipping up to me. Anything.

The scythe in my hand rubs into my skin. I don't feel much of it though, because of the calluses. At first, of course, it hurt. And then, that hurt ended up going away. But not completely. Now it's just sort of…hidden. Covered by tough skin and an outer shell.

Come to think of it, everything about me is like those calluses.

In front of me, a kid no more than thirteen picks up sheaves in his arm, dragging his feet in the dust. Tracing patterns. The dust is sort of raised in the light, swirling in the air around his dirt-covered legs and landing on his torn pants. He tilts his head when he sees me, shaggy, unwashed hair falling into his face. His eyes recognize something and for a moment, he shies back. It would be almost funny.

"What're you looking at?" My voice is sharp as the chaff blowing in the wind. Hopefully it'll rub into him just as much.

His legs actually shake underneath that pile of grain. "I-I ummm nothing." He mumbles and stoops down to collect some more sheaves.

No doubt about it, he knows who I am.

_Gavin the arrogant guy._

_The one you want to stay away from._

_The guy who can dig out your deepest insecurity and turn it into a casual joke._

_Gavin, who couldn't care less how he makes you feel._

And who am I to change all of this?

"Nice pants." I gesture to them, full of rips and caked dirt. "Haven't you got a Mom to sew 'em up, kid?"

His watery eyes widen. "Yeah, I got me a mom. She ain't got all that much time for sewing. That's all. She takes care of me good 'nuff, Gavin James."

A sharp laugh slips out of me. "My ass she does. Sure as hell doesn't send you to school. You can't even put together a sentence."

His mouth rounds into an "O" as he slips away, cheeks red from shame.

I couldn't help it. The guy was asking for it. Besides, sometimes the words just pop on out of me. Afterwords, I often feel some guilt. I'm only human, after all. But I can't take my words back. And that makes me even angrier. Sure, I guess my mother would likely be disappointed if she saw me like this. But my mother hasn't seen much of anything besides our dark little shack for the past six years. And my father puts so much into his work to keep from thinking too much about his little boy.

We were all to blame when Tosh died. All of us. We just have different ways of coping.

"What the hell was that?"

I raise my head, feeling a dull ache in my neck from having to stoop over so long, and come face-to-face with the most awful girl in all of District Nine.

Thorn Kingly.

She crosses her bony arms over her (flat) chest. Her angular face is contorted into a frown. Which, but the way, doesn't really suit her. Not that a smile looks any good on her either.

"Why don't you just pick on someone your own size?" She demands.

"Oh, here we go. Playing hero again, are we?"

Quite honestly, I only said that because I want to get back to work. Without an obnoxious, snobbish, rich know-it-all to bother me.

Thorn juts her pointed chin out even further. "Honestly, Gavin. You should know better. That poor kid you were just tormenting recently had a death in his family. His dad, to be exact. His mom's doing everything she can, but now he has to work to feed them."

She gives a terribly haughty sniff. "You should know better." She repeats.

I shrug and thrust some sheaves onto the ground for the Collectors to get. Collectors, like that kid, are usually under age fifteen or woman trying to feed their starving families.

"Well, it's about time the kid found out that life can be tough. Not that you'd know. You just live your luxurious life, oblivious to how hard the rest of us work."

Thorn gets a wounded look in her eyes, and I almost feel sorry for her. But then she goes and says something stupid again. "I do see how hard it is for all of you. I come out to the fields all the time, like today, for instance."

"And have you ever had to pick up a scythe? Or gone to sleep with a deep ache from bending over to pick up sheaves all day in the hot sun? Have you had a night filled with cries coming from the others in your shack, moaning from hunger? "

She chews her lip and studies the ground.

"Well, have you?"

"I-ummm…."

"Oh, that's right. Daddy the Mayor doesn't let his precious little princess see what life's really like, does he?"

"Shut up." She grumbles, and turns on her heel to go away.

"I'm not the only one who feels this way!" I call after her.

She turns around.

"Everyone else in this field does too. Think that'll come back later today at the Voting, don't you?"

Thorn balls her hands into fists. "I hope you get voted in!" She screeches.

"See you then, honey!" I shout.

She takes off towards her house.

Well, good.

I heave a shuddering sigh. Thorn has a way of bringing out the worst in me. She's spoiled as all get out, as the daughter of the Mayor. My hatred for her is mutual, as every boy or girl in the school has come to despise her nose-in-the-air ways. The worst thing in her effort to appear more like us. She'll go out in the field and sigh and make pitying looks to the rest of us, but I haven't seen her work a minute in her life.

I try not to think too hard about all I've just said this morning. It's hard to work with guilt on my back, beating on me along with the fierce sun.

And I sure have had my experience with guilt.

I was only eleven.

It was an excellent day. And the reason for that was that my five year old brother Tosh and I got to ride in the pickup truck, a huge honor among us kids. The real reason was that I'd got a nice ol' gash courtesy of my father's scythe. Well, it was my fault too. I was running to fast and I wanted to surprise, but he swung the scythe around and it nicked my arm, just near the elbow. The Head Man, the guy who owns the pickup truck and makes sure everyone is working, Mr. Davies, said he reckoned it wasn't big enough to have to get stitched up, but he'd take me on home anyway.

For a Head Man, Mr. Davies was awfully nice to us kids.

There are many other Head Men, overseeing other fields, who aren't so nice. But we got lucky.

Anyway, I remember sitting on the back of that truck with the sun in my face, watching the golden grain swish next to me. Tosh looked out with wonder. Our mother had made me take him along. He wanted to go to school and had been whining all day about that. I remember thinking ti was the darndest thing. Who wants to go to school? But then again, Kindergarten is all coloring and playing games. A lot more fun than picking up sheaves.

Well, it was Saturday. That's what I tried to explain to Tosh. Besides, he wasn't a baby. He could earn his keep, even if it was just a few coins.

So I was holding a cloth to my arm to control the bleeding and Tosh was leaning over on the side of the truck. Sort of in slow motion, I thought to remind him to scoot back a little.

That's when we hit the ditch.

The truck lurched forward. I shot out my hand to grab Tosh.

For one brief moment, I caught hold of his pants. The material, soft and worn, grazed my fingertip. But only for a moment. Because my fingers slipped. They just let go.

He flew right over the low edge of the bed of the truck.

I was thrown forward in the bed, hitting it and giving my jaw a good knock and I saw a tooth go flying out.

Mr. Davies stopped the truck.

I just remember someone screaming. Was it me? Mr. Davies? Could it even have been Tosh? I still don't know.

The point is, when we found him, we knew he was beyond saving. His back was all twisted and he had a trickle of blood from hitting his head on a rock. His head was bent way too low on his neck.

"It's spinal, boy." Mr. Davies said.

"What, sir?"

"Your little brother's hurt his back real bad. It ain't gonna be healed."

Tosh didn't get the gift of a slow death. Mr. Davies fetched the only doctor in our village in the outskirts of town, who was really more of an apothecary owner. He got a makeshift stretcher and pulled Tosh inside. Someone got my parents, who couldn't utter sounds besides low moans. Tosh just lay there, all twisted, while the poor doctor tried to make him comfortable.

My mother made sounds like an animal, clutching onto my father. I couldn't watch that. It was unbelievably scary to my eleven year old eyes.

I think a part of me hardened after that. Like a little chunk of me was just taken right out. A kid just can't have much innocence left, after seeing something like that.

I patted his hand a little. His eyes were closed, but not all the way. I could see just a little bit of terribly bloodshot, glassy orbs. He couldn't see me. He couldn't grin up at me. Couldn't grab my hand and tag along, firm in the belief that I was King and therefore infallible. That I was his leader. His big brother.

He depended on me for everything. I was the center of his universe. Our parents were often far too busy to take care of him. He'd end up following wherever I went. We stuck together.

What he didn't know was how much I depended on him. I depended on him for the innocence in my life. For the light.

He died four agonizing hours later, when he just couldn't breathe anymore.

The light was switched off. Like I said, a piece was gone. It felt like someone literally ripped a chunk of something out of my chest and just left a big, gaping hole there.

As the days turned into weeks, and those into months, each of us began to piece together what happened that day. At first, we were in too much shock to even fathom it. But eventually, each of us began to silently and secretly admit that it was our fault.

Poor Mr. Davies doesn't work in our field anymore. Couldn't meet my father's or my eyes.

My mother firmly believes it's her fault to begin with. After all, nothing would have happened if Tosh had just stayed home with her like he always did, cleaning and stirring the soup. Smiling and laughing with her. She slipped into the grips of depression almost immediately after the accident, once reality struck.

My father equally believes it's his fault. He could have vetoed the idea of a five year old coming to the fields. Or he could have been more careful and not swung the scythe when I tapped his shoulder. Then we wouldn't have been riding in the truck.

But there's no one more to blame than me.

A lot of people would think that I could be angry at Mr. Davies or even my own parents. But I'm not. They had so little to do with anything.

In the end, it was my fault.

I could have reached just one inch more. I could have caught onto his pants leg and held him on. I could have kept him holding on to his life. But I didn't. I let go.

I let go.

There's no worse feeling in the world than that of hopelessness.

I ended my little brother's life. I cut his childhood. Took it away.

And in the process, I took mine away too.

**Thorn Kingly's POV**

The ground beneath my feet is hard and packed.

I should have never come here.

I hear my feet pounding as I walk through the grain. It whistles and shifts in the breeze. The way the stalks move, like an amber ocean, used to entice me. I always have loved that breeze in my hair and the way the waves of grain stretch forever, to the slightly pink-tipped horizon. It's like a painting. But all too perfect for a painting to capture.

Maybe Gavin is right. No one wants me here. I am not here to work. My father would never permit that.

But I want to be here.

It's so much better than the place I call home.

"Home" is a large brick house with a white wraparound porch. Pretty lace curtains flutter in the open windows, while cheerful window boxes full of petunias smile beneath. There are so many rooms, and yet I feel cramped. Trapped. The house is no place for me and neither is the city that surrounds it.

District Nine is organized around a central city, with several villages stretching out from it. Some villages are bigger than others, some big enough to function as small towns themselves. All are accessible by dirt roads and take anywhere from a few minutes, to half a day's ride in a pickup truck to get there.

While sparsely populated, District Nine is a large one.

The central city, where the Mayor's house is, is where processing and packaging takes place. The grain is unloaded and then turned into the cereals, pastas and breads the Capital enjoys.

The villages are where the farmers live, surrounded by the fields where they work.

My father often tells me that our central city is much cleaning than most.

"Would you rather live in Five, Thorn? Where so many unnamed toxins float through the air that there's a thirty percent chance you won't make it to adulthood?"

"No Dad." I would say.

"Or how about Twelve? All that coal dust everywhere can't be good for your lungs."

"No, it wouldn't be." I'd then mumble.

"Or the mills of Eight? How'd you like to lose a finger or two to those awful machines?"

"Not very much, sir."

But a city is a city. I longed for something more. A place where I would feel more free and out of the house and my father's clutches. Of course, I knew that just beyond the city there were wide open spaces and villages. But I'd never been to any of them. My father said they were "unsanitary and dirt poor."

But I still wanted to go.

I was eleven when I first plucked up the courage to venture to one on my own. It was easy to sneak out, what with my father being buried beneath piles of work. His work as Mayor consisted of anything from trying desperately to prevent child labor in the fields, improve the vigilance of those at schools in order to make sure kids were attending and checking the status of those in the villages as far as starvation and disease went. But it also includes making sure the President himself was satisfied and that the people of Nine are meeting their quotas.

Needless to say, he has little time for anything else.

So I just walked right out of the city and along a dirt path. Occasionally, I would see a man dressed in shabby clothes, pulling a wheelbarrow full of maize. Or a Message Boy, with scraped and dirty knees from many falls, but still running like the wind.

Anyone who lives in an outer, poorer district knows what Message Boys really do. At first glance, it appears their sole job to make a quick coin by running notes from person to person, in order to avoid the inevitable back-breaking labor most boys face.

But really, they run messages to a variety of underground rebellion groups.

I've heard talk, even then at just eleven, that these groups were strongest in Twelve, of all places. But Nine had accumulated a system that wasn't so shabby itself.

As for my position on such issues, it is hard to say. At the time, I was only eleven. Still, it was easy to get caught up in the hype. Rebellion is exciting, at any age.

It still excites me. Something my father would ring my neck for if he ever heard me say it out loud.

The funny thing is, I have reason to believe he himself is one of the best known rebels here.

If I know my father at all, I know he gets the job done. If he had any want to obliterate the district's underground, he would have long ago.

Anyway, walking down that path, I was entranced. There was nothing but amber surrounding me everywhere. The wind ruffled the color of my blouse. I even took off my pinching shoes, so as to feel the sun-warmed ground beneath my feet. It was all so still. And yet, so alive.

Then I came to the village. There was no entrance, really. Huts just started sprouting up like seeds during sowing.

It was like I'd come upon a new world. Mother's stood in front of shacks washing clothes in tin basins and putting them to dry on sunbathed rocks. They wore long, swishing skirts made of simple materials, with pretty patterns on them. Flour sack dresses? Maybe. But I thought they looked beautiful. My own eyes were so used to the simple gray drab of processing plant workers. This was a rainbow.

Children played near their mothers. They rolled pretty glass marbles in the dirt, stopping every so often to polish one as the dirt was everywhere. Three little boys were having a running race, while some little girls jumped rope in what looked like a clothes line. Some older girls, closer to my age, were scratching letters in the dirt for four or five young children, no more than five. A makeshift school.

Yes, the shacks were tiny and falling apart. Yes, many of the children had slightly sunken in faces and arms like twigs. But it seemed like home. All of the woman knew each other, and chattered as they worked. The children played together. In its own sense, it was peaceful.

But I noticed that there were no men. And hardly any children over age ten. And a shortage of woman, too.

I reasoned that everyone must be in the fields.

And so I went. I had behind an old tree to watch the workers. Trees are few and far between here, so it's not the best hiding space. But people know better than to question the Mayor's daughter.

That same tree, where I first watched five years ago, is where I stop to catch my breath now.

I rest my hand along its jagged trunk, watching trails of ants make their way down. I lean my head against my hand and watch all the workers, just as busy and determined as the ants, cutting the grain.

Sometimes, I am recognized. Then, a dirty look often follows. Usually, only the children who go to school recognize me. Many people have no idea who the girl watching behind the tree is.

I spot a woman quite close to me, three children following behind her. The oldest is a girl a little younger than me. I've seen her at school occasionally, so I know she's about fourteen. A girl or ten follows, with a boy no older than eight bringing up the rear. All have arms heavy with sheaves.

Suddenly, the younger girl opens her mouth.

A pure sweet melody flows out. Sometimes, the workers sing. The overseer doesn't mind. He isn't the terrible, mean overseer one might picture. We have none of those. Even our Head Peacekeeper is just and fair. It's almost the Capital just doesn't care about Nine. Why should they? Sparsely populated and rather isolated, it's an island unknown.

I close my eyes and listen to the song.

_Oh, I know a place where waves'll be._

_With the sunbathed golden breeze._

_A wild and lonely land for you and me._

_It is the place of the amber sea._

_Singing in the land of eternal sun_

_A place where all will join as one_

_Singing in the land of eternal sun._

_It touches the sky, a tip of blue._

_A sunset painting so pure and true._

_And while its trouble are far from few._

_The workers will all sing along with you._

_Singing in the land of eternal sun_

_A place where all will join as one_

_Singing in the land of eternal sun_

As the song progresses, the rest of the family joins her, than all the woman around her. By the second verse, the men around have lifted their rich, low voices to the song. By the last note, there isn't a person in the field who isn't at least humming.

"Thorn!"

A sharp call pieces the air as a little wisp of a girl comes barreling towards me.

Chloe.

Chloe's hair is fairer than corn at its peak. It's so blond that it's nearly white. Her face is pale as the full harvest moon, with glittering blue-grey eyes. Her face is almost triangular, the little button nose sitting in the center. She's a tangle of skinny legs and arms and lips red as cherries. She looks more like a fairy sort of a thing than a little girl.

She stands out among the rest of the weathered, tan little girls of the field. The worker children usually have black hair, glinting dark eyes, and olive skin. I am proud to say that I share many of the same features with them. I obviously got those from my late mother, who I can barely remember. Still, she's at least given me my looks to be thankful for.

Chloe, pretty as she is, is not so lucky. She sticks out like a sore thumb.

Her sundress, a lacy white one, sticks to her legs in the heat. But the heat is really just beginning.

We met because her father is Head Peacekeeper. He lives right next door and ever since I was twelve I've been babysitting Chloe. But it's more than that. She's my friend. My only one, in fact.

She taps my shoulder lightly. "You'd better go to the Ceremony now. It's starting."

I raise my eyebrows. "Did you come all the way out here to get me?"

Chloe nods, looking immensely proud of herself.

But I don't ask the real question on my mind. _How does a nine year old know much about the Ceremony in the first place?_

Subconsciously, Chloe takes hold of my hand. Like a little sister would. We walk to the city on the dirt road.

"Everyone's going." She pipes up, pointing to the hordes of children and their families walking the path with us. The village kids wear their best, which isn't much. Flour sack dresses, torn pants, shoes with soles falling out and no shoes at all. Chloe and I stick out, her in her immaculate dress and my with my velvet black skirt.

"I know where they're going." She says solemnly.

"Where, Chloe?" Of course, I know the answer. I just feel like testing her knowledge.

"To the Reaping." She says, just as casually as can be. "Well, now it's the voting, instead of the Reaping. Everyone will vote who they want to go to the Games."

She scrunches up her eyebrows. "Reaping is a silly name, I think."

"Why?"

She frowns. "Cause it's for grain. When you cut the pretty stalks. You cut those pretty stalks away from the field. They don't come back, you know."

_You cut those pretty stalks away from the field. They don't come back, you know._

Her eerie words, said so flatly, send chills down my spine.

"Chloe, who told you that?"

She shrugs. "I'm not a baby. I know kids that when kids get picked, they get killed."

Eventually, we reach the Square. Chloe separates from me to where her father stands with the other Peacekeepers.

I'm late. I squeeze between other sixteen year old girls just in time for two booming words to come from the microphone.

"Thorn Kingly!"

I look down at my hands and notice them fluttering just slightly. Like a hummingbird's wings.

I fold them in front of me, squeezing them on my way up to the stage until half-moon crevices show up. The walk up the stairs seems longer than it really is. The escort, with her painted smile and curtain of cheer waves me forward just a little. I notice she wears gold bracelets, all with a pattern of wheat on them.

The only victor we've ever had, now thirty years old, sits in an old metal chair. Her name, Aluma, has always entranced me. I love the softness of the vowels. It's a motherly name. One a caregiver would have. Fitting, because now my life is in her hands.

Perhaps those in the crowd might wonder why I don't appear nervous.

Why I'm not shaking with fear.

Well, I've got a secret.

Ever since I was ten years old, my father has been training me for the Games.

**Gavin James's POV**

When Tosh died, it felt like the whole district had come to mourn.

My mother wore an old, mothball-ridden dress. It was the only black thing she owned. I wore my only par of pants without rips in them. My father did too.

Everyone wore black. And I remember thinking that we looked so strange. I wanted the red, billowing skirts women and girls usually wore. Their blouses slightly wrinkled, but nearly always clean. Or a colorful stan of food on them, from cooking. I wanted to see the boys my age with dirt and wrinkles and rips everywhere. Shoeless, hair blowing every which way.

But I only got a crowd of quiet, still young men. So unlike the boys I knew.

_Glass people. _I remember thinking. I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe I felt like everyone was walking on glass that day. Slow painful steps.

Maybe I noticed how small and fragile my own parents looked.

Now that I think about it, I saw Thorn there. She was with her father. How strange that the Mayor was there, I thought. Why would he come to some little poor boy's funeral? A boy who was just many of the hundreds of little kids who die every year.

I'm still thinking about that now.

Thorn couldn't have actually wanted to go. Her father must have made her. Dragged her by the straps on her black dress. Pulled her by the gold bracelet on her arm. She probably cried out in protest. Wailed. Threw a fit.

We hated each other at that age too.

Thorn never met my eye, that whole funeral. She just stared at the ground, tracing patterns in the dust. Her polished black shoes were getting scuffed, and I noticed her father jab her with his elbow. She straightened up after that, looking for all the world like a soldier poised for battle or something.

Come to think of it, the man had always scared me. Yes, I knew the mayor was, in general, a good guy. But the way he treated his daughter sometimes made me want to bite back my tongue a little. But only sometimes.

Or else I blurt something out about how maybe her daddy beats her.

That happened when we were no more than thirteen, a little over a year after Tosh's death. I blurted it out in front of a crowd of girls. Your face flushed red and pink as the sun setting.

_Gavin James, that's a lie and you know it!_

_Do I really, now? _

_Just because your parents don't-_

_Don't what, Thorn?_

_Take care of you well enough cause they're still depressed or whatever. Anyways, just cause they're depressed and you probably are too, it doesn't mean you can go making up lies about people. _

_Is it a lie, Thorn? _

Is it a lie, Thorn? It's a legitimate question. Maybe I didn't know the truth to my own words at the time. Come to think of it, how much do I really know about Thorn Kingly? My fellow competitor. District ally. And yet…my enemy. Always has been. Always will be.

Mentally, I compile a list of concrete facts I know about that girl.

She's the Mayor's daughter.

Her mother died sometime before I met her. So, before kindergarten.

Most everyone hates her uppity attitude and airs to rival those of a Capital citizen.

That's about all. But what else do I need to know? She'll be dead just as that gong sounds, mark my words. Maybe then ol' Daddy back home will feel some guilt for his actions. What a strange, rigid old man. Sure, my parents don't even acknowledge my existence anymore. But at least they've never laid a hand on me.

Really, though. Of all people, I get her.

She'll spend the whole time moaning about how I "shouldn't be so arrogant." Grumbling to me about being "overconfident." Shaking her head and muttering "you shouldn't be so sure of things, Gavin. It's not like you're a Career or anything." Or maybe she'd simply give up on me. A lot of people have. She most certainly won't have been the first.

What she'll never know is that it;s an act. A facade. A mask.

I've always thought that if I simply acted confident, if I acted a little cocky, or arrogant…that the confidence would just come. Like, eventually I'd wake up one morning and it wouldn't be an act. It would just be there. And then I could get on with my life.

And people would talk about the "James boy" and how he was such a sweet little boy, but took a sharp turn for the worse after his brother's death. But now, would you believe it, he's had himself a change. He's not awful and mean and sarcastic to others anymore, oh no. Now he's just plain confident. Well liked, too.

Forgiveness. Acceptance. Two things I think just about every person on the planet wants, in some way or another.

Well, at this point is fairly obvious that won't happen to me.

Cause I'm not getting a second chance.

Much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, I don't think I'l be coming back here.

I lean against the couch. there can't be too much time left in this room, right? It feels like the wooden walls might close in on me at any moment, despite the fact the fact that the building is a more spacious one tun I've been inside in my whole life.

The door stands unopened. A lone Peacekeeper stands in front of it, looking at it a little…sadly. Maybe the guy's bored. If he knew who I was, he certainly wouldn't be looking so sad about my departure. Or probable death. He might be wearing a look of grim satisfaction, just like the rest of them.

I can hear the bustle of people below. Relief making them happy and lighter than when they arrived. This year's Games have taken the most hated faces in the district. The people see no reason to mourn.

And what of my classmates? The faces I saw the few times a month I bothered to come to school?

There was Aviva, who had always been a little slower than everyone else. I made sure she knew that. First, calling her retard when we were younger. Then came the laughs and snide comments whenever she so desperately tried to answer a question. Words I didn't mean at all.

And Chaff, the boy who showed up at school every day of the year. Every day. He didn't skip for work like the rest of us. No, he actually wanted to go so badly he just worked late into the night. He'd show up in the morning bleary eyed and exhausted, but so happy to be there. Everyone jeered at this, but no one more than me.

Of course, goody-two-shoes Thorn always told us to "stop being so mean."

And Rye? The boy whose name I laughed so awfully at because of his father's liquor problem. His mother's secret life selling herself to the worse Peacekeepers. He was Reaped three years ago. Died on the first night. He'd survived the Bloodbath, only to be taken by a single knife thrown right at his heart in the dead of night.

I should have felt so much guilt after that. I should have stopped everything, right then and there.

But I didn't. In fact, I felt absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

I examine a fingernail, to keep from meeting the Peacekeeper's eye. Fake indifference. I'm used to doing that.

Finally, a little beeper goes off. It cuts into the stillness, dispersing it every which way. A weight lifts off my chest as I stand. And take a long, low breath.

It is time to go. Time to leave.

Time to say goodbye.

And yet, my parents never came.

**Thorn Kingly's POV**

My father's steel gray eyes meet my own.

"Thorn, this wasn't your faut."

His voice is as rough and scraggly as his beard. His beard and the small mop of hair on his head are as gray as his eyes. There's not much color to him, except for the red rim of his nose, the black pupils, and the clothes he wears. In general, he looks surprisingly fragile.

I feel my fists clenching.

"Oh, it wasn't?"

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

I stare down at my bony, skeletal hands. It has always been a mystery to me, why I'm so thin. I look almost malnourished. But in reality, I have all the food I need. Now, I can't say this bothers me. In fact, it makes things that much better. A round, healthy frame would just be another reason to torment me. If I were to go to the field and one who didn't know me at all saw me, they wouldn't look twice. I look just like a field worker.

I bite my lip and shrug. "N-Nothing. It was a stupid thing to say."

My father's gray eyes cloud over. "Thorn, if there's something you want to tell me, now would be the time."

"No, it's really nothing. Besides, I hope you don't mean what I think you do. Because it's not like I'm going to die or anything."

I almost see a smile on my father's face. "Of course not." He shakes his head. "You're my daughter."

"And I've been training for this." I repeat, almost mindlessly. "But Dad, how did you know what the Quell would be?"

He scratches his beard. " Ah well, as a mayor I have connections. I've known it since the day you were born. I figured it just might affect you in some way or another. And I could infer that based on Nine's resentment to all things Capital."

I look nervously at the Peacekeeper behind us. But surprisingly, he looks neutral. Of course. I've seen that man before. At one of my father's dinners, I think. Oh yes, a friend of Head Peacekeeper Thicket. Chloe's father's friend. And I know perfectly well what sort of leniency the Head Peacekeeper has towards the citizens here.

No, whatever I say will be safe.

Which is why I ask the next question.

"Dad, what is your stance on the Capital?"

He gives a little sigh. It's not quite like the sigh he gives when he's showing his disproval of something I've done. I've heard that sigh many, many time before. When I miss the target with my dagger. When I misname a plant. When I trip and fall. No, there's no helping me back up. Just a sigh and a shake of his head.

But this sigh is different. It's merely one of thought. One even of worry. If anything, it's disappointment in himself. How strange.

"Well, that is a hard question, isn't it? How about this. I can acknowledge that they control all of us. You, the citizens and most of all, me. And so I do my job. But there is no way I think the Games are humane. They're not solving any problems. They never will."

"Oh."

He waves his hand, as if to dismiss any further questions I might have.

"But this is all unimportant." He says. "For now, lets' focus on strategy."

"I'm going for an alliance."

He raises his snow-colored eyebrows. "Really? When did you come with that?"

Perhaps he does know me well enough to know that I'm a bit of a loner. Well, "a bit" doesn't really suffice does it? The truth is, I've almost always pictured myself doing this alone. Alliances just seemed so tricky. They could mean instant survival guaranteed, just like if I found a hidden spot right near a water source.

Or they could be just as deadly, and frankly, just as stupid, as running a knife through my chest.

"I think many people see them as stupid, Dad. And they can be. But in reality, they aren't most of the time. I've realized that it just seems common sense now. They have something I need. I have something they need. We team up. Two is better than one, any day. I just have to make the right choice."

"That you do." He says gravely. "Who would you choose?"

I sit back in the chair and cross my arms, blowing a stray strand of hair out of my face. "Well, not my district partner, that's for sure."

My father nods thoughtfully. "You know, I certainly noticed something between you two when you shook hands. Not hate but…something very near that."

"Oh, he's awful!" I cry out, surprising even myself. "He really is. He's arrogant and cocky. He picks on everyone, even the little field workers. He just digs out your deepest weakness and shows it for all the world to see. He can get into your mind and just…he knows all the things that make you unsure of yourself."

To my utter shock, my father smiles. Actually smiles.

"Thorn," he laughs icily "It seems to me like he'd make an excellent tribute!"

"W-What the hell?"

"It seems to me like you could do with some cockiness yourself."

"Oh, for God's sake. I'm coming home. And when I do, I'll be rid of the dagger throwing practice and all that sh-"

"Thorn." My father says softly.

"What?"

"It's time for me to go." He gestures to his pocket watch, an ornate little thing on a golden chain.

He stands up from the couch, leaving creases in the velvet. The light coming from the airy windows above casts a shadow. A man with a slight stooped back. The man who has been intimidating and pressuring me my whole life. But for what? So I could live.

He flattens a piece of thin hair on his head. For a moment, I see that he's stalling. He's waiting for something.

What?

Should I give him a hug?

A kiss?

A teary embrace?

A series of heartfelt thanks for his efforts in protecting me, no matter how harsh?

I see his arms lift just a little. A slight twitch. It could be just that. Yes, a nervous twitch. Likely doesn't even mean a thing.

I finally settle on something.

"Goodbye Dad." I say. The words come out almost sharply. Like little shards of glass. Hurried. He wants to be rid of this place and so do I.

So a simple "goodbye" will have to do.

His facial muscles sag ever slightly. Like he's frowning deeply. His arms fall back to his sides, relaxing once more. His shoulders loose their tenseness.

"Goodbye Thorn."

**A/N Wasn't that interesting? Two tributes who know each other, huh? In the next chapter, it'll actually happen too. But in a completely different context. **

**I hope in this chapter, you were able to both sympathize with, and then sincerely dislike, both of the characters. What I mean is, I hope when you're reading one POV, you come to hate the character mentioned as being "awful" but when that "awful" character's POV comes along, you start to sympathize. Eh? Yeah, it was no easy feat for sure.**


	12. D10: The Convicted and The Outcast

**A/N Thanks for sticking around, folks! Your support for this story has been awesome. Look at all those reviews! Also, thanks to my many submitters. HAPPY KID 21, the most sunny person you'll ever meet, brings us Oak Zulily and loverman22, who's a pretty seasoned SYOT submitter, brings us Howleen Jennings.**

**Oak Zulily's POV**

This is my favorite spot in the entire district.

Rolling hills and peaks tower above me, a little speck in an enormous valley. A clear, bubbling stream cuts through a wooded area next to me, filling out into a glassy pond. Beneath my hill, a patchwork of villages and stables dot the ground.

Grass ripples in the cool breeze all around me. Sheep shuffle and goats bray behind me, a chorus of happy sounds.

Best of all, I am completely alone.

Sure, sure my Grandfather is always saying that "man is a tree and ought to extend his roots."

Or is it "man is not an island?"

Whatever, it's one of his many deep, meaningful quotes that he's always dropping on me at random.

Maybe he picks me because he's given up hope on the other members of my family. Boris, my eldest brother, is so wrapped up in his own world. He's nineteen and has his own little hut on our property. He's soon going to be married to Angie, who keeps him plenty worried. Then there's Benjamin, my other older brother, at seventeen. I think he's been considered the "hopeless case" of the family for a long time. First of all, he's the biggest idiot a man could meet.

Oh, it's not like he's disabled or damaged or something. He's just plain stupid.

Maybe Grandpa Angus didn't decide to pick my parents to lay his constant flow of wisdom on because they're too busy caring for the kids. Both human and goat.

Then there are the cousins. There's my Aunt Felicia, Uncle Rod and their five kids who share the house with us. The cousins are all pretty little, so they couldn't understand a word of what he says. For some reason, I've become their unofficial caregiver. Can't Felicia just take care of her own kids? Sure, I know Uncle Rod is busy helping Dad and Boris in the slaughterhouse or taking the products to process plants. But I've hardly ever seen Felicia near the cheese and milk making areas the women stick to.

Mostly she lies around in bed, or occasionally helps Grandma Betsie with the cooking. Occasionally.

So I have to take care of her brood.

"Oak!"

Sure enough, the sharp cry pierces what little peaceful time I was enjoying. I turn my head slowly to see which of the kids wants me now.

I'm a little bit grateful to see the brown braid streaming out. That's a sure sign that it belongs to Agnes, my unofficial favorite. Of course, like I said, I'm just a little grateful.

Agnes is ten, and an agreeable thing. She does what's asked of her and looks up to me. Quite a bit, actually. She always wears her long hair in a braid. Sometimes I wonder how girls can stand all that hair. Agnes's is nearly at her waist. She helps out with cheese making quite a bit, as well as churning. Her arms are surprisingly muscular from such and I see little muscles ripple under her short sleeved, dark blue dress. It's a little small, like many other clothes we wear, so it comes above her knees.

She has four little siblings. Dale is nine years old. One might think I'd be closest to him, as he's my closest in age as a boy. But he's a horrid thing. Way too hard to control. Sometimes Dad'll make me take him with me to take the sheep and goats grazing. Those are bad times.

Anderson is seven. He follows anything Dale tells him to mindlessly, and is basically a human puppy.

Lara is six and the only child in the family with blond hair. And not only is it blond, but it's platinum and almost silver. She's a bit babied, which I think is a result of that.

Remus is the youngest, at only five. He pretty much worships me, but usually tags along with Dale and Anderson.

Agnes sits down on the rock with me, staring out at the sheep and goats fanning out near us. She scratches a tan, scraped up knee.

"We're gonna head on over right about now." She says softly.

"You too?"

"I dunno." She shrugs. "It's an awful long walk. Grandpa wants to come, but Grandma says her back's been bothering her, so she won't. I think your Momma wants me and the little 'uns to come 'long on the chance you get yourself chosen."

Agnes has the typical District Ten drawl, while mine is a little more subtle. Grandpa told me that it isn't how most of the people in the nation speak, so I should try to cover it up a little better.

"Well, are you coming along, Agnes?"

She straightens up. "You think Momma'll let me? She told me she sure as hell won't let Dale or Anderson."

"Agnes, don't curse. I think it's a fair bet Aunt Felicia will let you. You'll have to see it in two years, anyhow. No sense putting it off."

She clasps her hands and watches an ant make its path across the rock. "Yeah, that's true 'nuff Oak. 'Cept this year is special. My Momma says it'll be even sadder."

She's right. It will be. But she doesn't know anything, not really. She doesn't know how badly I don't want her to come.

Because this year it'll be me.

I just know it.

And it's all cause of one damn stupid thing I did not three months ago.

It was just a game. Really, that's all it was. It was a dar, and he took it. I didn't think he'd take it. I didn't think at all.

Tristen, Dalton and Jonathan were over. We were just messing around and playing betting games on a pair of dice in the dirt yard in front of the chicken coop. The dust rose up every time someone threw the dice. I saw Anderson and Remus looking at us from an upstairs window and I thought cruelly how they must be wanting to come play with us so badly.

"I'm bored." Jonathan declared out of nowhere.

"Aw, come on." Tristen, who's probably my closest friend, groaned. "Come on, man. I was about to win this."

"Yeah," Dalton muttered. "You're only saying that you wanna quit cause you're loosing."

"Shut up." Jonathan grumbled. But we knew it was true. Still, Jonathan could be a pretty awful guy, so we knew not to push him any further.

At that moment, it struck me how much I couldn't stand Jonathan Ewe.

"Hey, I got an idea." Jonathan said. "You 'bout we play a daring game?"

"Uh…a daring game?" I mumbled.

Dalton and Tristen exchanged a look.

"No, really. whoever completes the most dares by sunset can take all the coins I brought." Jonathan showed us the tiny sack of bronze coins he had in his pocket. "If I win, I keep 'em."

"Oh, all right." We finally gave in at the sight of those coins. I was thinking how I could buy some chocolate for all of us. A bar for everyone in my house! Grandpa adores chocolate.

"I'll go first." Jonathan stood proudly. "Go on, one of ya'll dare me."

I wrinkled my nose in thought. God, I hated Jonathan Ewe. He'd just gone and invited himself over. Plus, he picked on kids at school, especially the little ones. Now, I know sometimes you gotta prove you can be strong and all to the guys your own age, but that just isn't right.

Besides, I sure as heck wanted that money.

"I got one." I felt my eyes light up. "I dare you to sit in the meat grinder until we tell you to come out."

Jonathan falterd. "It-It ain't goin', ain't it?"

Tristen, Dalton and I laughed. "Of course not, idiot!" I chuckled.

His eyes waver at this. It's a hard dare. Well, I bet it must be, since I came up with it.

"Fine." He says.

And so we walk over to the barn and he climbs up the ladder for anyone throwing things into the grinder. He sort of inches and scoots on his butt down into the thing, a few inches away from the huge blades. I peered over the rim of the grinder to see that he's good and in there.

"This ain't nothin', Zulily!" Jonathan cried out. But I saw the way he looked at those huge blades, still and menacing.

Tristen, Dalton and I walked out of the dark, musty barn and into the sunlight. Tristen had brought the dice along, so we set to playing an intense game with them. We were having ourselves a really good time, made better by the fact that Jonathan wasn't there to spoil the fun.

We didn't see the two men walk into the barn.

I heard the familiar whirring before anyone else.

"NO!" I cried.

But I was too late.

There was a single scream. No, more of an eerie shriek than anything else. To this day, when I think about it, it raises the hairs on my neck.

Nobody could eat our lamb for a month after that.

"_Oak._" Agnes jabs her finger into my arm. Hard.

"What?"

"You kinda just blanked out, for a minute there."

"Oh, sorry Aggie."

"I was just thinking that there ain't any place in the whole nation prettier than what we got right here."

"_Isn't._"

"Huh?"

"Ain't isn't a word, Agnes. Say _isn't _instead."

She giggles. "You worry about the stupidest things, Oak. I swear."

We walk down the hill together, the sheep following us and the shepherd's staff I carry.

"You're right, Aggie. There sin't any place prettier than our hilltop."

She skips a little. "I love the time when all the wildflowers are blooming. They paint the green hills a whole rainbow, Oak. I don't think they can make anything that pretty in the Capital. they don't have our rolling hills or pastures, uh-uh. All they got is a bunch of fake, silly stuff that ain't, er, isn't worth nothin', really."

Agnes stops a little, her bare feet skidding on the dirt path. "Course, that time is right now. But a lot of people look real sad."

"That's just because of the Games, Agnes."

She crosses her arms. "Well, then I hate the Games."

"You and me both."

We turn into the farm that belongs to the Zulily family. Goat and sheep pens and a chicken coop, with a little brown house, and a barn to hold the meat grinder. Which goes unused, most of the time. Sometimes we use our neighbors. But I see Mrs. Travis, our neighbor's wife, stare at us from her window from time to time. She never looks happy, needless to say. She is good friends with Mrs. Ewe.

Compared to many families, we are better off than most. Our house is only one story (I've hardly ever seen two) but it is snug and well-maintained. We have enough food, but just that.

Grandma sits on a rocking chair on the back porch, repairing Dale's pants. She waves to Agnes and me, and we wave back.

"Grandpa, Boris, Benjamin, Felicia, Rod and your parents are in the front!" She calls to me. "You're going to go together!"

She peers down at Agnes. "Your mother says it's up to you, whether or not you'd like to go. She says ten is a good age to start. But don't tell the others they can come, because they can't."

Agnes nods, stiffly. She's unsure whether to be happy to be out of the cramped house, or sad to witness something like this.

Grandma looks back at me. "Why don't you say goodbye to the little 'uns? It'll be a long trip."

"Yes ma'am." We both say.

Sure enough, as we walk to the front of the house, the crowd of young children pours out the door.

Dale crosses his arms and stares at Agnes. "Momma said you could go, but I can't. How come?"

"You're too young, Dale." I say to him.

"Aw, no fair! She ain't hardly older'n me!"

"You'll learn more about the Games next year in school." Agnes's voice has an authoritative tone. She's already learned about the Games. What they mean.

"Bye, Oak and Aggie." Lara says shyly. "Have a good trip."

Agnes gives her little sister a hug. "Thank you, Lara." She whispers.

"Have a good trip." Remus puppets. I give him a pat on his head. _For the last time?_

No, Oak. Don't think like that.

Agnes gives each of her siblings a hug, even the reluctant Dale. Anderson looks like he's about to cry, for some odd reason. Maybe he knows something? But none of the kids know anything about The Incident. Not even Agnes. Grandma doesn't know, and I don't think Grandpa does either.

Agnes and I join the crowd of adults and we start walking along the gravel road.

Rolling hills tower over us and wildflowers make them a painting. But Agnes has no skip in her step. She knows to be solemn. Felicia leans a little heavily on her husband's arm. She's always been a bit of the family dramatic.

The way to get to the Central City and Square is along the same gravel road. It goes into our village, which our farm overlooks. There, we'll be joined by other families. And from there, the road passes through two more villages until we reach the City. The trip takes about three hours, and so we'll stay in the City to rest for a while.

Unless I get picked. Then I don't know what happens.

The village houses creep up on us. Agnes holds tightly to her mother's hand and Benjamin takes slow, heavy steps. Outside, children walk, all cleaned up. Normally, District Ten kids are the wildest of the wild. Growing up around animals will do that. But these kids are another species.

Even I'm uncomfortable, in my three-quarter length brown pants and white linen shirt with the laces. I'm even wearing nice, brown boots. Shepherd stuff. All I need now is my sheepskin vest, except it's way too hot for that.

A few stalls are set up, but no one shops. My mother points out some fabric to me.

"That would make a nice shirt, right Oak?"

My father pats her shoulder. "The best things are in the city."

How can my family think of such things now? Maybe they don't know what is sure to happen. At school, it is really obvious. The only person who still talks to me is Tristen. And sometimes my kind seat mate. Even Dalton has grown wary.

I kick a pebble. Why?

And then, there she is. Right in front of me.

Jonathan lived in the village. Did no one bother to tell me that this was his house, all dirt and its tin roof? Did no one bother suggesting to walk the other way? Surely, my father must have known that the Ewes live here.

Mrs. Ewe still wears all black. She looks me right in the eye.

Suddenly, she steps back. One bony finger remains pointed straight at me.

"You killed my son." She whispered.

My father grabs my arm and pushes me back a little. Agnes whimpers. Felicia lets out a moan.

"Killer!" She cries. She turns to all around. "This boy is a killer!"

She whirls around, facing the crowd that has gathered. "I hope you get what's coming to you, boy." She mutters to me.

My mother lets out a strangled gasp.

"Killer!" The woman cries once more. And then, she disappears back into the darkness of her house.

Only her words remain.

_Killer. Killer._

**Howleen Jennings's POV**

The straw presses and itches at my face.

I roll over onto my side. From the shard of glass I keep up here, I can see the red marks everywhere that the straw imprints have left. A tiny little window shows that the sun has already risen. I can hear the cows' soft mooing from the distant stable.

I cringe and rub a sore spot on my back. It's been getting worse over the long months spent up here. But hey, it means I can sleep well just about anywhere.

Hear that, world? Howl can take whatever shit you throw at her!

Okay, so maybe an ancient grain silo is not the place to sleep.

But it's a lot better than the house.

The silo is old. I've heard maybe two hundred or even more years. It's from back before the districts were really districts at all. This was just general farmland. That explains how a grain silo ends up in District Ten. It leans a little to the side, but is otherwise pretty sturdy. I sleep in the loft area.

Sometimes I wonder about the farmers who lived here. Before the Apocalypse, even? They must have survived it somehow.

It isn't all that bad of a place, really. It's always lined in fresh straw for me to sleep on. Night after night.

Well, I know who's behind that.

Sure enough, from my window I can make out the tiny form of Sam striding across the yard. He holds a bundle in his hands. I can't help but smile a little.

I get up and, after a brief stretch, scramble down the ladder going down from my loft. But before I go down, I take a look at my "bedroom." A pile of messed up blankets and a pillow form a sort of nest. Next to it is a basin full of ice cold water, a hairbrush, my shard of glass mirror and a dusty picture of my mother. She's smiling in it. I can't say how old she is. Pictures are hard to come by in the dirt poor place that is Ten. But it is from before she had me.

"Hey, Howl." Sam's low voice greets me at the silo's entrance.

He places his bundle on the ground. It's a dress with a par of shining black flats on top. I pick up the dress. It's a sundress. White with sky blue flowers on it and short sleeves. I study those flowers, squinting for a moment.

"Uh, Sam?"

"What?"

"Where did you get this dress? It looks awfully familiar."

Sam shoves his hands in his denim pockets and stares down at his boots. "Well, Howl, those were your Momma's things. The dress got too small for her I remember, so it should fit you fine. The shoes might be too big, though."

The reason Sam can remember my mother wearing these things is because he has helped out here for more than nine years. He's twenty-one now and sort of my big brother. He takes care of me when no one else will. Hence, the freshly lain straw each morning.

We even look alike. Olive skin and curly black hair with hazel eyes. Except he's skinny as a stick while I have a more muscular build.

"Oh, Sam. They're beautiful." I tell him. "I just don't know if I can wear them."

His large brown eyes fill with a mix of sadness and understanding.

"Howl, the accident wasn't your fault. It was just that. An accident. And I believe your Momma knows that better'n anybody." His slightly melodic voice drawls.

I finger the dress, running my hand along the perfect stitching and light-as-air material.

"Go on." Sam says. "She woulda wanted you to."

I slip behind an old screen and Sam ducks out of the silo to give me privacy. I pull off the huge white shirt I wear to bed most nights. It's all right, as most nights here are warm and muggy. But Oh, the feeling of that beautiful fabric over my head! The dress comes on easily, like a cloud. It swishes slightly as I pull on the shoes, which are a little big. But it's far better than too small.

After all, I have a walk ahead of me.

I walk out of the silo, feeling as though I'm walking on the air itself. Sam stands right in front, crossing his plaid-shirt-covered arms and grinning down at me.

"Jeez," He whistles. "You sure do look like her right now, kid." He grins again. "She never did comb that wild hair of hers either."

I frown teasingly and stick my tongue out at him. But I know its true. My Momma liked to keep her hair wild as the wind blowing it, as she said. I do too.

We sure did have a lot in common. She loved the smell of lavender more than anything else. So do I. We both loved going out into the pastures and picking wildflowers together in our bare feet. Both of us preferred cold baths over warm and slept on our sides. And both of us loved nothing more than lying on the grass on a warm night and looking at the stars. Sometimes, my father would even join us.

He would never think to do a thing like that now.

Sam points to the little white house. "You'd better grab some breakfast. You and Callie should head on over."

I whistle a small sigh. One would think Callie and I would get along just fine, since we have so much in common.

Both of us lost a parent at a young age. Both of us still have a parent who is quite changed as a result of that. Both of us are still getting used to the idea of sharing a house and two new family members.

But we hate each other.

I would attribute that to the fact that my father has basically declared to himself that I no longer exist. Callie is his daughter now. He only pays attention to her. That is, when he's not drunk. And so she gets to sleep in a warm bed in a real house.

But that happens when you cause your mother to die a slow, agonizing death. I killed my own mother.

Of course, people will be angry.

I was only seven. I just wanted to get to the warmth of that oil lamp. I had no idea what really made it so warm. I knocked it over.

Straw is very, very flammable.

The fire caught on the hem of her skirt and that was that.

I got out with a few bad burns on my hands and wrists. I still have to cover those wrist ones with old pieces of cloth or ribbon wrapped around, cause they're damn hard to look at.

My mother was everything to me. She was my world.

And I took her away.

After her death, my father married her sister, upon finding that she was a widow. My step-mother also had a daughter, whom my father adopted as his own. Then he got into whiskey and everything came crashing down for me.

I walk slowly up the creaking steps to the back door of the house. The smell of oatmeal wafts through the door. In the end, that's what sends me in. I'm starving.

My step-mother stands at the stove, stirring oatmeal stiffly. Well, she does everything stiffly. Callie sits across the table, wearing a nice yellow sundress with a lacy color and black flats like mine. Her hair is perfectly brushed, and she spoons her oatmeal carefully so as to not spill a drop on her immaculate dress.

Well, it's not half as pretty as mine.

Sure enough, when I sit down to the plate my step-mother put out for me, Callie's eyebrows raise.

But she doesn't say anything.

"Is Dad coming?" Callie asks as she sets her plate on the counter. I'll likely have to wash it later. Unless my father is drunk. I never, ever come in the house when he's drunk.

My step-mother pinches her lips, adding to her already rat-faced persona. "No, Callie. He's in bed nursing a nasty headache."

Nursing a hangover. As always.

Callie and I bustle out the door, with her following closely behind.

Outside, families from the little cluster of farms we live in are heading out with us. We live in pretty close proximity to the City, so our walk isn't so bad. When I first had to take the walk two years ago, I was scared out of my wits. But last year I began to notice that there was beauty everywhere.

We're surrounded by rolling hills and deep green valleys. Wildflowers blanket everything and crocuses and daffodils glisten with the dewdrops that cover them. A bubbling, clear stream races beside us, washing over smooth, perfect pebbles. Weeping willows stand at its banks, bending their branches in the wind.

Though this year, the Quell scares me a bit. It's such a horrible one, really. But then again, I suppose they'd have to make it, it being the first and all.

The name of the boy I voted for is still stuck in my mind. _Callum Birch. _The name belongs to an older boy, eighteen. I just see him smoking something funny and stealing money from kids by the school. Yes, he's bad. No, I wouldn't want him to get picked.

I could wish that on no one.

Ahead of us, a crowd of people appear on the road, coming from the outer villages. Throngs of children knit their hands together nervously and stare at the ground. One group of girls are all holding hands with each other.

I spot a familiar face and run towards it, grateful for the opportunity to not have to walk with Callie and Rat-Face.

"Oak!" I call.

He turns his head and waves to me.

Oak and I sit next to each other at school. Both of us made horrible accidents happen. Both of us are outsiders. No one would sit near us or talk to us. No one offered us smiles or waves. And so, by the nature of science that is the social aspect of school, we stick together.

I don't know if we're friends, entirely. Mostly it's a silent friendship, if any at all. We just naturally go to each other whenever a partner is required in school for something and have quite lunchtimes together.

He's walking with his parents, Grandpa and his Aunt and Uncle and two brothers. One brother, who Oak says is an idiot, trails a little behind.

He has a sort of swagger in his walk that makes me agree with Oak wholeheartedly.

A young girl clutches his Aunt's skirt.

"Who's this?" I ask Oak.

"Oh, that's my cousin Agnes."

Agnes gives me a little wave and a shy smile.

"You look a little young to be coming along." I say playfully.

"I'm ten." She says solemnly.

"Agnes, this is Howleen." Oak says.

She wrinkles her eyebrows. "Howleen? That's a funny name."

"Yeah, I was named that cause I sure as heck came out howling." I tease.

She smiles widely, and I'm glad I could get it out of her.

Oak and I walk a few steps ahead of the rest of his family. I admire the tall hills and peaks, while he stares at the stones in the path.

Before we know it, the City is before us.

"Hey, there's the Square." I point to him. I squint my eyes. "There is the check-in line. Wow. Look at all those kids." Every year I come here, the sheer number of all those people always takes me aback a little. And we're one of the smalles districts in terms of population size!

"Howl?" Oak says suddenly.

"Yeah?"

He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Uh, how exactly do you feel about the Games?"

I lower my voice. "Well, of course I hate them with every ounce of me, Oak. Especially the ones this year."

"Yes, especially." He agrees.

"But what can I do? That's what bothers me most."

"Me too." He says quietly. "Me too."

A few minutes later, I'm all checked-in and standing in the Square, holding my still throbbing finger after the needle went through it. Girls my age are all around. I recognize some from school, but most I've never seen before. City girls, or ones who live in farther villages.

Some wear nice dresses, like the one Callie is proudly displaying for the girls in the thirteen year old section. But most wear ones recycled from chicken feed sacks or hand-sewn or passed down from their mothers. Ones that hang limply, just like their heads. Many have bear feet.

I wiggle my feet, suddenly extremely grateful for my own uncomfortable flats.

The escort, Sunny Sapphire (a thoroughly awful name) taps the microphone twice. It makes a large, booming noise.

"Welcome, District Ten!" She smiles. It doesn't make that much sense to me, seeing as how this is _our _home and _she's _the guest. But oh well. Nothing that woman says ever really makes much sense anyway.

"We have a film for you!" She coos.

The screen on the stage flickers to life. The twelve year olds bustle excitedly. Surely, they've seen something like that. Soon enough, they'll find out what it really is.

The girls around me whisper like mad and huddle closer together. The images on the screen are gory, even for my "not very sensitive" taste. Sure, I help Sam out in the butcher shop sometimes, so that requires a strong stomach. But this is pretty bad, especially looking at the scenes of the first ever Games, where all those kids just look around with confused looks on their faces when the gong sounds. Until, of course, a boy from One gets the message and brings a spear right through the girl from Three, her face still etched with shock.

Finally, the terrible thing is over. If the crowd wasn't silent before, it is now.

"Shall we start?" Sunny chirps.

The Mayor hands her a single piece of paper, as opposed to the normal ball of thousands upon thousands of slips she normally draws from.

"Ah, ladies will be first."

The girls all around my tighten up. Fists become balled and hands become clenched. Knees are now locked and lips are now sealed.

Silence envelopes everything.

"Howleen Jennings!"

All I can hear is my own breathing. The girls around me silently step aside, their faces a mask of emotions. Some are shocked, while others merely look relieved. Some have no emotion at all. Many of the girls I know look down at the ground, guilt etched across their faces. Many stare at the thick ribbons around my wrists or the puffy scars on my neck and hands.

Nowhere is there a look of pity.

_Crunch. _

The gravel beneath my feet feels as loud as a gunshot.

_Creak._

The stairs groan with each step I take on them, drawing everyone's eyes to me.

The stage is nearly empty, save for Sunny's form as she stares at the boy's slip and the Mayor who has just handed it to her.

District Ten has never had a victor.

Sunny clears her throat slightly. "And now for the gentlemen!"

My knees shake. _Not Callum. Oh God, not Callum. _I don't think I could face that hulking mass the is Callum Birch. Especially if I saw him die and I knew that, though I wasn't the killer, it was my fault in the end. I can make his face out in the eighteen year old section, looking almost expectant.

"Oak Zulily!" Sunny cries.

At first, my knees relax a little. I let out a breath I was holding.

It wasn't Callum.

And then, it hits me.

Oak.

I know that name.

_Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God I know that name._

Everything comes crashing down.

**Oak Zulily's POV**

My grandfather is the first to come in. He holds his head up, even though everyone else has their's down.

He goes right up to the couch where I'm sitting and sits right next to me, making a soft groan as he sits.

"Well, Oak." Is all he says.

My mother slowly sits on my other side, gently running her fingers through my hair. I am glad she isn't crying. That would be far too much to handle. Besides, Aunt Felicia is doing enough crying for all of us over there. She has her head buried in her husband's shoulder, while clutching a very used tissue. Agnes holds onto her skirt.

Bris holds his hat in his hands, clenching it and looking right at it, as though it's the most interesting thing in the world. Benjamin just looks around the room absently. Maybe he even wishes he was in my place. He's mentioned before how it must "be nice to win the Games and get all that money."

Stupid Benjamin.

My father is gripping onto the armrest of a chair so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

"I'm so sorry!" My mother wails suddenly.

"Sorry?"

She covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Oak, it wasn't your fault. It was only an accident!"

I shuffle my feet against the wooden floor. "Yeah, Mom. It actually was."

"Don't say that." My father says gruffly.

"I dared him to do it, Dad. It was me. I didn't warn you guys in time. Come on, everyone knows it was my fault."

And it's true. Everyone does know.

They have made it quite clear.

"No!" Aunt Felicia cries out.

I feel my fists clenching. "Yes!"

"What are you talking about, Oak!? Listen to yourself!" My uncle roars.

"It was my fault! I hated Jonathan Ewe. Maybe I wasn't conscious of the fact, but I wanted him dead! He was awful to everyone and no one could stand him. Whether we knew it or not, all of us at least had a part of our mind that wanted him gone. I knew how dangerous it could be. I killed him, Uncle Angus! Why can't everyone here see that? Jonathan Ewe is _dead _because I _killed _him!"

I feel my breath growing heavy and I feel myself panting.

Agnes is cringing.

"How could you say that?!" Boris shouts.

"Enough." Grandpa's low, soft voice startles us all.

He puts a hand on my back and pulls me back down.

"Oak, you did not mean to kill him. Even you know that and you can't pretend otherwise. No matter what others may think. If I know my grandson at all, I know he does the right thing."

"Thank you." My father whispers.

"Now." Grandpa says. "Let's talk strategy."

"But-" Dad starts to say.

Grandpa holds up his weathered hand. "But nothing. I don't care if any of you think this boy is getting no further than the Bloodbath. If you think such things, keep your mouth shut. I would be very disappointed in you. The only way he won't be killed immediately is if he gets it into his smart mind that he won't be."

Everyone falls silent.

"Good. So Oak, you and I both know that you're fast."

"Uh, okay."

"So you're going to run. No looking back at the Bloodbath. No charging at people. No making any kills. No running for that one weapon you just have to have. Nothing stupid, you hear me?"

"Yessir."

" 'Atta boy. Will you make an alliance?"

"Well, I know my district partner."

"Good. That's good. What do you know about her?" His eyes widen slightly. I know why. A district parter who knows you is a very good thing. It means you'll be far less likely to end up getting stabbed in the back. Literally. An ally who knows you means almost no chance of betrayal.

"I know she's smart. I men, she's really smart. I sit next to her in class. I know she's also pretty fast. And I know that she's great with nature in general. Howl knows everything there is to know about plants. She can use knives, since she works as a butcher sometimes. She's not squeamish either."

To my shock, Grandpa laughs a deep, booming laugh. "Well, ain't that somethin'!"

"W-What?"

"Oak's got himself a Lover!"

My ears turn red and face feels instantly hot. "What? No! I-I…"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Oh, all right. Now how about you give me some negatives this time, eh?"

"Oh, well she's young, obviously. We both are. She doesn't have a lot of raw strength. Howl's probably not the best climber either, but then again, no one here would be. There are hardly any trees. Plus there's the fact that we know each other which means it would be hard to…" My voice trails off.

"Say no more." Grandpa says.

The rest of my family looks at me sadly.

"Oh, you'll be wanting a token." My mother says suddenly. The rest of my family murmurs in agreement, glad for the distraction.

She pulls a perfectly white pebble out of her pocket. I notice it has a distinct heart shape to it.

"Lara, Remus and Anderson were at the creek the other day and they found it. I think they meant to give it to you, but they give it to me to keep for you since you were out with the sheep."

"Tell 'em I said thanks." I hold the pebble in my hands. It short of shines.

"Well, it ain't the most manly token." Benjamin says bluntly.

Grandpa laughs loudly and Boris and Dad join in. Before I know it, everyone's smiling. Huh. Maybe Benny isn't so bad after all. If he could everyone to smile in a place like this, well, I don't know anyone who could do something like that. Maybe I should give the guy a chance.

Or…should have given.

Agnes picks at her fingernail. "You're coming home, right Oakie?"

I feel my whole family's eyes on me. Boris and Benjamin exchange a look. Aunt Felicia looks at her daughter, red-rimmed eyes still brimming with tears.

"Yeah, Aggie. I'm coming home."

What I didn't say was whether I'd be in a coffin or not.

We're all a little startled when the buzzer sounds, signaling that my family has to leave.

Uncle Angus lead Aunt Felicia by the hand. She gives me a small wave, before she's overcome by tears again.

Boris and Benjamin follow. Boris look extremely pained. He was always my big brother. My protector. It must be killing him inside to know that he can't do anything for me, where I'm headed. Benjamin's lips are drawn in a tight, white line. Surely, he'll never talk about the Games as a way to "get famous" again.

My mother holds my father's hand tightly. There go my Momma and Daddy. The people who watched over and hovered over me, their youngest son. My mother who guided my hands in helping me make my birthhday cake. and my father who first brought me up to the hill where we take the sheep to graze.

My mother waves three fingers at me, and I return it.

Last to leave are Agnes and Grandpa. His large hand rests on her tiny shoulder blade.

Grandpa looks down at me. He clears his throat.

"Remember, Oak. Danger is very real. It's fear that isn't. And you've got nothing to fear but fear itself, right boy?"

I nod.

"And there's a saying. Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will."

The door shuts heavily behind them.

_Strength comes from an indomitable will._

**Howleen Jennings's POV**

I grip the wooden armrest of the seat.

This Justice Building place is huge. The hallways are so long they echo and the ceilings are so high that it hardly feels like I'm inside at all. Gigantic arching windows loom above the space I'm in. I hardly know anyone with real glass windows. But these are so big! The pure glass shows the bustling street below.

Under me, hardwood floors stretch what is probably the distance of my house. A beautiful rug covers part of it. And for what I hear, the Capital will be ten times bigger and better.

But the fact that the space is so huge only intensifies the feeling of loneliness in me.

I stare down at those pretty little blue flowers on my dress. They blur slightly by my tears. The tears behind my eyes distort everything. They make things look softer, somehow. Like I've just taken all these rough edges and turned them into material that's soft as the dress itself.

It's so hard to wrap my mind around the fact that my mother once wore this dress.

Once upon a time, she wore it outside to pick wildflowers. She once spilled her cooking on it. Stitched up some clothes my tiny toddler self had ripped while she wore it. Hoisted my up in the air with it on.

When she did that, I felt like I could fly.

I'd see her face under mine against the sun in the hills. Blue sky stretched forever around us.

_You see that, Howl? _She'd say. _You're like my little piece of blue sky._

_I am?_

_Yes. Everyone has to have some blue sky with them._

Everyone has to have some blue sky with them.

I think I lost my little piece years ago. It probably got burned up, right along with the rest of the barn in the fire. Maybe that soft piece of heaven just turned into a black crisp. And it just sat there, all twisted and ugly. Then, maybe when the family came to help get things out of the ash, someone saw it. Maybe it was Callie or rat-faced Erika, my soon-to-be step family.

One of them mighta gone and picked up that ugly, charred bit and thrown it right on out. And they'd never know it was my heaven they just tossed away.

Some people don't know a wonderful thing when they see it.

I think Dad's sunshine and sky is drowned at the bottom of some whiskey bottle somewhere.

I scratch at my scars and the old ribbons covering them, expecting to be sitting here all alone for quite a while. It isn't as though anybody cares. Ain't that sad? Well, I was never one for pity.

So one can only imagine my surprise when the heavy wooden door creaks open.

The first thing I see is a red plaid shirt.

"Sam!" I cry out.

He runs over to me and thrust his arms around me. He still smells like freshly-made straw and grass.

I bury my head in his shoulder. "Sam, how did you get here?"

He fingers the stubble on his chin. " I followed ya'll, course."

I uncurl my hands and sit back. "But…why? You weren't supposed to."

" I jest got a bad feeling in me, that's all. And I thought it might be nice if you at least had someone to walk back with. So right after you left, I followed you. I-I figured if you didn't get picked, you'd have yourself a nice surprise."

I've always loved Sam's voice. I love that drawl he has. In Ten, the poorer you are, the more of it you have. Sam's pretty much dirt poor, having to feed a family of six. So he pronounces "just" like "jest" and says "ain't" and "ya'll" a lot.

"You're like my little sis, Howl. I jest thought I gotta protect you."

"Oh God, Sam."

He gives me a little smile, but I can see tears getting caught in his stubble.

We sit in silence, but only for a short time.

"That's real awful. I saw you talking to the boy who got picked when we were walking here."

"His name's Oak. I know him from school."

"Will he make a good ally?"

I shrug. To be honest, I don't think I'm capable of thinking this sort of thing right now. I'm still in shock. The events of the last hour or so still haven't set in. It's like everything in me sort of just shut down. Like my own body doesn't even want me to think. In a way, you could say I'm comfortably numb.

But if I do force myself to think of it, I would say he would make a good ally. He's wicked fast and pretty smart. And he's, above all else, a good person. There's no way he could kill.

"I guess he would." I say vaguely.

"Allies are good, Howl. Two is always better than one. Always. You won't be so vulnerable. And vulnerability is what kills in the end, ya hear?"

"Okay, so my goal is just to not make myself vulnerable?"

"Sounds good to me." Sam says. "Do that in any way, shape or form. Get yourself a weapon, but don't do anything stupid to get it. Find a hidden spot and stay there. Don't move around and try the Careers' patience. You could run straight into them."

"Careers? I haven't even thought about them."

"They're the trained ones. You think it's just One and Two, right?"

"Uh, I guess." I say softly, knowing it isn't the right answer.

"Wrong. A Center's sitting in Four as we speak, shiny and new. Watch out for those guys. And Careers can show up in the most unexpected places. Kids this year'll be different. There are psychos. Murderers. Kids who actually want to win and the whole district thinks they can too."

"How can I spot 'em?"

"Oh, you'll know. The truth is, Howl, every district's got something working for 'em."

"Huh?"

"Kids from Three'll be wicked smart. Them, and the kids from Five can build snares and wire the place to make it a ticking time bomb. They know all about chemicals and they'll be lethal. The ones from Six know their fair share about mechanics. But some are druggies and illogical and out of it. The ones that aren't all the way sane are the worst."

"And the kids from the outer districts?"

"Seven kids are tough. They can swing axes like they're toothpicks. Eight kids are accustomed to starving and rough living. Nine kids have those scythes. Eleven ones'll know all there is to know about plants. If you've got a trustworthy one, you have a food source. And if you still can't trust 'em one hundred percent, don't ever eat any of the food they offer. Ever. You got me?"

"Yeah, Sam. I got you."

Twelve ones are hardy. They're a varied lot, so one might come along with a strange talent and take you by surprise. Don't let that happen. Be prepared. Observe everyone carefully before the Games even start. The worst thing that can happen is to be taken by surprise."

"Gotcha. Sam, how come you know all this anyway?"

"Lost my best buddy to the Games eight years ago." He says bluntly.

"I'm sorry."

He frowns. "Don't be. It's just that I ain't about to lose my little sis."

"Sam, you ain't about to lose me yet." I say with as much conviction as I can muster.

"Atta girl!" He grins at me.

"Hey now, what am I supposed to do for that token thingy?"

Sam's brow furrows. "Well, it's sho' gotta be good. It supposed to remind you of home. You know something to hold onto when things get real tough. Something for you to hang onto."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Maybe you oughta keep a little scrap of that dress. I've got a little pocketknife in my pants. I could caught a piece off for you. It'd be like having your Momma right there with you."

I can feel my eyes widening. "Yeah." I whisper. "It would."

And so he gets his little knife out, hardly enough to hurt a person, and slices a piece off the bottom. He places the scrap of blue and white in my hand. It's no more than three or four inches long. I rub my fingers over it, tracing those blue flowers. What would she do if she saw me here?

"Just change when you get into that train." Sam is saying.

But I can't really hear him.

"Hey now!" He shouts. "Howl, don't cry!"

I can't help the tears from welling up. I out my head on his shoulder and he rests his hand on my back.

"Sh-h-h Howl. Don't cry, now. Don't cry."

"I know. I know. The worst is yet to come."

"Aw, Howl. Don't say that. You know I hate seeing you like this."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." I lift my head up again and wipe my nose on my arm a little. Jeez, I must look mighty pathetic right now.

Sam smoothes back his hair a little. "Hey now." He says again. "Howl, look at me."

I make contact with his big, brown eyes.

"Don't you let go of that fire in you. That light's gotta stay, no matter what."

I nod.

"And whatever you do, don't lose that hope. Cause really, that's all you know for sure about. The one thing a person can be certain one hundred percent of the time is that there's always hope."

He pats my knee.

"So don't lose yours. It's all you've got left."

**A/N So that's just the beginning of a little romance here between Oak and Howl, eh? **

**I hope I've done a good job giving you guys a picture of what Ten might look like! Anyways, it was a fun one to write.**

**So how 'bout that poll, people? Choose your favorite alliance and the one with the most votes will last the longest! Actually, I sort of have a plan already, but you know what I mean. I just want to see who my readers like best and if they find the pairing adequate.**

**If you DON'T like the pairings or submitted a tribute and you don't like where they are, PM me please.**

**You'll find the poll on the top of my profile.**

**Oh, and that awesome quote Oak's Grandpa used is courtesy of Ghandi. Who is awesome.**


	13. D11: The Protector and The Alien

**A/N So here's Eleven, which is located somewhere in the Deep South. How many southern accents am I going to have to give these people?! Yeesh. Anyway, the character Gav is created by me, but with some character ideas from one of my submitters. And Velvet Leporis is by cherrybubble.**

**Gav Little's POV**

Sometimes I think I might be a fish.

No, really. And don't go thinking I'm a wack-job or something. I look like a regular human kid. Yep, that's me. Gav, the plain old regular human. I've got brown, shaggy hair and tan skin. Maybe my skin's not so tan and maybe my hair's not so shaggy. But there isn't a lot of time to bathe and all that here.

But I'm just a lot like a fish. See, people like to get to thinking that they can catch a fish. They'll act all tough about it. It ain't nothin' but a little ol' fish! That's what they might say.

And sure 'nuff, that fish slips right through their fingers.

That's me. Slipping right through your fingers.

I'd really be more of a minnow, though. Tiny and fast. So fast, in fact, I'd be just a blur. Just when you think you've spotted me…I'm gone. Some people try to trap minnows for the fun of it. Which doesn't make any sense to me cause they ain't hurting nobody. Not nobody not nohow. They're innocent. So why would you wanna catch one?

You'd be killing that. And that'd be mighty cruel.

I'm lying on the dirt floor just as the sun is coming up and thinking all these thoughts. Straight in the morning is when I do all my best thinking.

Like what my plan for the day is.

Namely, how in the heck I'm gonna get everybody here breakfast.

Now since today's the day of the Ceremony (my very first) there are sure to be vendors outside. Where there are crowds, there are vendors. People have to come from the way outer villages and stay here for the night and they'll be hungry come morning, so that's why the vendors come out.

Course, by mid-morning, they'll have gone away.

So I'd better hurry then.

I toss off the old blanket. Next to me, Willie's still fast asleep. He still sucks his thumb, even though he's six years old. Willie's my little buddy. We do everything together.

Well, he doesn't join me on my morning "runs."

I'm just about to exit the little one-room house. I have to walk extra quietly, so Mom doesn't wake up. Although, I have a feeling she knows just as well as me where I sneak off to each morning. That food on our table doesn't come from nowhere. Besides, Moms just know these things. And she's a pretty good mom, as far as I can tell.

Her job just doesn't pay enough so she needs a little help.

Yep, just a little extra help. That's all.

Mom just lies there in her cot, her round body moving up and down as she snores silently.

Much to my dismay, it's actually Azalea who wakes up.

_Dear God above, why her?!_

Sure enough, before she's even awake, she assumes her typical stance of hands on hips and a disappointed frown.

"Gav Little, where do you think you're going?" She demands.

"Azalea Little, why are you awake?" I retaliate.

She frowns. "Cause I'm looking after you, Gav. You're about to do something stupid. I can tell."

Her candidness surprises me for just a second. "Woah there, Zay-Zay." I use our old pet name for her. "Much as I appreciate your Mom-ish behavior, I already have a mother. And besides," I add, "You're nine."

Azalea sticks her tongue out at me, which makes me fully aware of how young she is. "You're only twelve."

I grin a little. "You'd better have a better comeback when I get back."

She sighs, defeated. "I will." She whispers.

I swing open the rusty door just enough to squeeze through. The sun makes its way in, and Basil and Lily stir on the blanket they're sharing. Willie lets out a little groan.

"Sh-h-h." Azalea instantly quiets them down, including a groggy Olive next to her.

I can't believe it. My annoying immature brat of a sister is covering for me. I take one look around the tiny hut, with little bodies curled up in blankets on the floor and my mother's sleepy body on a cot beneath the stove. And then I make a run for it. I have to take advantage of the situation.

I'm glad to be out of that cramped space. So glad, in fact, that my running feet have a little hop to 'em. So what if everybody says this is a sad day? Sure doesn't feel sad to me. There's hardly anybody on the streets today, cause there's no work. Imagine that! No work!

That no-work day comes only once year. Today.

So you can't convince me it's not at least a little happy.

Normally, pretty much every kid ages seven and up would get over to the orchards or fields. Little kids drop the seeds in the holes or dig up the fruits and vegetables. If you're in the orchards like my family, little kids mostly pick up the rotten fruit.

That's what Azalea and Olive do. Olive's seven, so she's only just started. If you ask me, she's already a better worker than Azalea. Azalea complains a lot. Not a lot of kids complain here in Eleven. We're tough. Oh, and eternal optimists.

Not Azalea. She's a whiner. No better word to describe it. C'mon! Not even Olive or Willie cry when they get stung. Wasps are just a part of the orchards. Heck, I bet Lily doesn't even cry!

There are much bigger dangers in the orchards. For starters, there's heat stroke. From what little amount of school I actually go to, I know we live in a place that used to be Georgia. I have no idea what in the heck Georgia is, but the point is, we live there.

It's not as though I actually need to go to school. I'm smart enough already.

And, in my opinion, they don't teach kids what they've really got to know around here.

If you ask me, Lily and Willie (the only kids of us not too young to go to school or old enough to be working) should be learning about how to stretch a bowl of porridge to six kids. I mean, most every family in Eleven is big.

Which brings me to another point. How come they're so big if there's not enough food to go around? Maybe it's cause the Capital people just want more workers. Jerks.

Or they should learn about how to slip a Peacekeeper's gold watch. Or knick a piece of bread. Or dodge a Peacekeeper's whip. Every kid in Eleven has stolen before. Might as well learn how not to get caught.

And sure enough, just as I walk into the Market Square, I see a fine example of what our education system is missing.

Some idiot kid over there just tried to steal a piece of goat cheese from right under the vendor's nose. And that vendor just happens to be the only goat cheese vendor, Lazy-Eye Sue. Who in their right mind steals from Lazy-Eye Sue? Man Oh Man, does that woman scare the pee outta me.

And goat cheese? Really? What are you, the pickiest, richest street rat in Eleven? Sheesh.

Lazy-Eye Sue is a screamer. One you take something from her, the whole Square knows about it. To a street rat, there's nothing worse than a Screamer.

But, thanks to that idiot, I've secured myself a golden opportunity.

While the rest of the people in the Square are looking to see the commotion when a few Peacekeepers get the kid, the bread cart has been left unattended.

Thank God for idiots! That's all I have to say about that.

My feet take off like the wind. Man, am I running! If there's one thing I can do right, one hundred percent of the time, it's running.

I even have time to make a selection. Two loaves of perfect white bread. One tucked into my shirt. Speaking of which, I really should get Mom to sew that one up fro me. Since the factory requires long shifts, I've learned how to sew. But that is not something I prefer to do. The other loaf goes under my arm.

The sense of peace lasts about three seconds.

I've already past most of the vendors when shrill screaming come behind me.

And for once, it isn't just Lazy-Eye Sue.

"Thief!" The vegetable vendor yells. "Scum!"

Scum, eh? Well, I gotta hand it to the guy. I don't hear that one often. Maybe he finally found a thesaurus.

"I voted you in, kid!" His face is tomato red. "It's time we rid this place of kids like you!"

Words can't describe how grateful and relieved I am to have rounded the corner in an alley.

Still running, I feel a stitch growing in my side. Aw, damn that stupid vegetable vendor. It ain't like anybody else would vote for me. I didn't hurt nobody. Not ever. In fact, I'm well known among the street kids as a good, honest kid. Except when I'm stealing, of course.

But heck, those little guys at home need to get food _somehow._

I can finally slow down to a walk once I'm back in the outskirts. We live near the orchards, but not too far from where Mom works.

I pull away the old door on our hut with the tin roof.

Inside, it's much darker. Azalea sits on the pile of blankets shoved in the corner, braiding Lily's hair. Olive sits next to her with her hair pulled back into a neat braid.

I set the bread on the low table and Mom nods, smiling a little. Breakfast.

"Hey, since when does Azalea know how to braid hair?"

Mom beams. "Sine very recently. She's great, isn't she?"

It figures when I finally find that Azalea has a talent, it's something useless.

"Bread!" Willie shouts. Basil claps his chubby three year old hands.

"Willie, you get the first piece cause you're my favorite." I grin.

Basil pouts and whimpers.

"Gav…" Mom's voice is a warning.

"Only kidding. Here Basil. Take one. And when you girls are done with whatever it is you're doing, why don't you get one too?"

Azalea nods for Olive to get a piece. Olive is really obedient, even to Azalea. Azalea clears her throat. "I told Mom that we didn't need to worry." She tells me. "I said that Gav will always be here to help us. Cause you always manage to get food. I said you do a better job than Dad ever did."

"Zay-Zay, you probably barely remember Dad."

"Sure I do." She insists. "It's the younger ones that don't."

Lily points to Basil. "Hell, Basil hasn't even seen him yet."

"Lily, don't curse." Mom says tiredly. She and I both know that she heard that from me. Willie's taken up cursing too.

"I remember Daddy getting drunk all the time." Olive says quietly.

My mother spins in her chair, a piece of bread still in her hand. "Oh, Olive. You don't. You can't remember that! You were too little."

"But I do." She just says flatly. And that's how I know she's telling the truth.

Willie sort of snuggles his head into my arm. He doesn't like hearing about his father. It's no wonder. None of us do. Mom always told me the man took away what little childhood is possible here away from me. I do remember him coming home long after I'd fallen asleep. He's the one that caused the door to fall apart on its hinges.

"Hey Mom." It suddenly hits me. "Why are all the kids looking so dressed up?"

And it's true. The girls wear dresses and the boys wear only slightly torn pants.

"Well, they've gotta come along, Gav. Don't worry. I'll get 'em in a place where they can't see the video or any of that."

"It's not appropriate." Willie recites.

"I dunno." I mumble. I know my siblings don't know anything, if just a little about the Games. And I want to keep it that way.

"It'll be fine." Mom says. So I know it will be.

"Whaddaya say, when we get back, we have some gumbo?"

"Gumbo?!" Willie exclaims.

"Sure, the neighbors and I are all planning to share some in Ms. Hazel's pot."

"Woohoo!" Lily shouts. Olive bounces Basil up and down excitedly.

"Sounds great." I say.

I love gumbo nights. Sometimes, on warm muggy nights, the people in the slums here will have a cookout. Everyone brings a little something and we make gumbo and sometimes bread or even cake to go with it. Mr. Francis, who's older than the trees themselves, brings out his fiddle. Mr. Ellicot plays harmonica and Miss Maude sings sweeter than honey. Oh, and Olive plays her little pipe like a regular Capital entertainer.

Than I bring out my tin drum and the two of us play a song together. And everyone talks about it for the next week. I've been teaching Willie how to play the drum and I've been waiting for the right time for his debut.

After playing songs and singing for a while, everyone just kind of lies back and looks at the stars and listen to the men's deep laughter. I can hear the low murmuring of the mothers and women. Small children sleep at their sides, but are still determined to keep their eyes open. Older children play tag and the girls braid each other's hair.

It's really peaceful.

I'm thinking the night of the Ceremony would be a good night for a cookout. It's such a sad day. People need some cheering up. Besides, before I know for a fact a lot of people had little celebrations for not being Reaped. Still, this year is a little different.

Mom stares out the window. Well, it's not really a window. Just a square cut out of the wall with some kind of transparent paper on it. I wonder if she's wishing that she had a glass window. There sure wouldn't be much to see, though. Just the slums. More tin huts and muddy paths between 'em. Laundry hanging out on washboards and in tin basins. Dirty dogs sniffing trash piles. But there's not a scrap of food in 'em. Nobody ever throws scraps out.

"I think we'd better go." She says softly.

"Where are we gonna go?" Willie questions. His nose is running, as always.

"Well, Gav has to go with the big kids. But I'm going to take you little one to a special spot where you don't have to see anything too scary."

Willie puffs out his chest. "But I won't be scared, Momma!"

"Me neither!" Basil pipes up.

"Guys, listen to Mom, okay?" I tell 'em. I gotta set these guys straight. Besides, I don't want 'em to see all that. For all they know, the Games are just a chance to be on television. And that don't sound bad at all, huh?

Heck, I'd like real bad to go on television. Just not my bloody, dying face being projected for the whole country to see.

Mom tugs Lily's hand, while Willie slips into my own. We walk out together as a family.

"Can everyone pair of with their buddy and walk ahead a little?" Mom's request comes out of nowhere. Even Basil raises his eyebrows. Every kid in the family has a "buddy." C'mon, with five siblings, you'll pick a favorite. But we hardly ever separate.

"Azalea, watch over Willie and Lily. Olive, you take Basil. Azalea will walk with you too. Gav and I are going to walk together. We've got to talk."

Azalea nods, seeing Mom's serious expression. She takes off with the rest of the kids.

"What is it, Mom?"

She stares at the ground. Which isn't like the Momma I know. "Oh, you know." She whispers. "I guess I'm just worried."

"You don't have to worry 'bout me! I'm jest fine. Yep, jest fine." I tell her.

"Gav," She says all sternly, "I know what you've been doing."

"Yeah, and I know you know that I'm stealing. How else can the little guys live?"

She wrings her hands. "It's just-well, I here the Capital's been taking some measure for tougher security here. They suspect there's lots of rebels here."

"Well, there are! And I'm one of 'em!" I exclaim.

"Sh-h-h, Gav." She warns. "Anyway, those vendors and everyone in the Square, they know you're a thief."

"So?" I pretend to act like I don't care, but I know where she's going.

"So they could just vote you in." Her voice is barely even a whisper.

I thrust my hand out and grab hers. Maybe it's my Mom who needs my comforting, not the other way around. I gotta make her feel better. I gotta protect and shelter her now. She smiles down at me with her warm, brown eyes. Man, I always wanted her to smile so bad, ever since I was a kid! Still am one, I guess.

"You got nothing to worry about, Mom."

"R-Really, now?"

"Yeah. Cause I'm a minnow."

"A what?!" She stutters.

"You heard me! A minnow. I slip right out of everybody's."

"Oh, I see." She grins. "Yes, a minnow. My Gav, the minnow."

"And people, see, they don't think minnows are strong at all. They think they can jest catch one and call it a day. But it ain't easy! Cause minnows are fighters!"

"And you're one too." She says softly.

"Yeah, so never snare a fish because it's just a minnow."

**Velvet Leporis's POV**

No weakness. No pain. No mercy.

Such are the words that he repeats every day.

And every day, he says them slightly differently.

Some days it is simply a chant. And he will say it as simply as one says "Good morning. I think I'll have a bowl a cereal." He'll say it flatly, expecting me to recite it with him. Other times, it will merely be a whisper. As if he is telling it to himself, rather than to me. But more often than not, it is shouted. Screamed. Drummed into me so that every bone in my body can scream it back.

My father is a very cold man.

But so is life. Life is cold. Many here in Eleven cannot realize that. They simply refuse to. Oh, they go on and on about how there's always hope. How the Capital will fall one day.

Well, it won't. It's invincible. I suppose I can see that better than anyone. And I want it to stay invincible. I worship it and everything about it. No, I don;t just worship it. I long for it. Crave it.

I want a place where the only worry is what one might wear tomorrow. I want a place where I can eat and eat and finally feel full. I long for a place where there is security in the fact that one has power. And the whole place has power. I want the beautiful colors and flashing screens. Technology and a controlled climate.

But most of all I want the power and the security that comes with it.

I hate this place.

I hate the way it always rains. I hate the way the warm, wet air seems to press on me. I loathe the slums and dirty people. I detest the constant swarms of insects, each one more deadly than the last. I hate seeing all that ugly barbed wire and all those sweaty Peacekeepers. I hate it all.

So maybe if I follow Dad's little mantra, I can get out of it.

I stare at the girl in the mirror.

She's pretty. But not in a soft way. I tilt my head and admire my hair. A light sort of color, unusual in this place. My finger brushes my cheek. Smooth, but with high cheekbones. Almost cruel looking. It is a look that suits me well.

But is it enough to win over the hearts of sponsors? To ensnare them in my icy grip?

Perhaps the fact that I am from Eleven will perturb them.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it will. But I will show them that I am no scrawny rebel. I mean no trouble. To them at least. I want to be them. I adore them. I have to show them that I am anything but a typical Eleven girl. Then they'll be fighting over each other to sponsor me.

I can hold them in the palm of my hand.

Of course, I will have to follow Dad's phrase. Except for one thing.

He is wrong.

Sure, I understand I can't show weakness in life. And I can't show mercy either.

But life is full of pain.

Has he not seen enough of it? He lost his wife. I am sure he must feel guilty for how he treated her. Like I didn't see him hitting her. So, she died when I was young. Not so young that I was blinded to violence. And then he lost his daughter, Emerald. But I'm sure it didn't matter. He hated her.

I can't help but having a deep well of sadness open up in me as I pass her room. My Emy.

She was my mother. At seven years older, it was enough. She was my caregiver. Emy was the one who sang good night. She was the one who hugged me. Who whispered in my ear. Emy always tried to send me to school with clean clothes, a lunch, and a smile. And she was the one who scolded me when I did something wrong.

I imagine that's what a mother is.

But he ruined you, didn't he, Emy? He tore you apart. Every day he trained you. Every day he screamed at you. Made you push harder. Run faster. There was always something you could do better.

But what he hated most of all was how much you hated to kill.

It was your silent rebellion against him.

_Don't you dare listen to him, Velva. You have an option. Killing is a choice. And it is the wrong one._

I am sorry I didn't listen, Emy. I am.

But you died in the Bloodbath. Because you wouldn't kill. It took one blow to the skull from a boy from Eight. Eight, Emy! Those are the weakest of the weak. Oh, Emy, why wouldn't you run? Dodge it? Why Emy, why wouldn't you kill?

I disobeyed you for a reason. I don't want to end up like you.

A silence creeps in on the room.

I've been talking to my dead sister again.

Six years now. She has been dead for six years.

My father is still asleep. Funny, how he looks so human. But I suppose we all do in sleep. He hardly looks like a monster who would put his daughters through hours of rigorous training each day, eventually forcing them to volunteer. Killing one.

My fingers curl angrily on the wall. I don't need him now. I never did.

I slink into the kitchen and fix myself a bowl of strawberries. Because Dad's a Peacekeeper, we're never without good food to eat. He's from District Two, which I guess would account for his brutality.

Actually, I've always fancied myself more of a "One" kind of girl. You know, they adore the Capital over there, and the Capital actually likes them back. Must be nice.

Plus, sure I've got that "fighting spirit and bloodlust" type thing going on, but it's not like I'm wiling to forgo appearances or make a fool of myself in front of the cameras.

I don't agree with Two's approach on interviewing. I don't think one should just grunt at the camera and play "tough and mysterious."

My fingers pluck the last strawberry in the bowl. Shame. I love strawberries. Ah well, I can just get more soon enough. I wonder if they'll be as fresh in the Capital. Staring at the red juice left in the bowl, I'm beginning to think of this little fruit's journey. How many hours have small children spent laboring over picking this?

They have their parent's rebellious thoughts in their heads to keep them company while they work.

Thank goodness for new measures in security my father is heading. Thank goodness for those massive walls and lookout posts being placed everywhere.

Of course, the mere knowledge that I am Slate Leporis's daughter would be enough to make any self-respecting rebel vote me in.

It's a good thing I won't need that.

It was easy to get everyone to vote for me. Who knows? Maybe deep down in their pathetic little hearts, the people of Eleven actually want a winner.

Pushing the chair back in the table, I give my arms a little stretch and head out the door. Maybe I'll meet up with Honey along the way and we can giggle about Capital boys and past Victors like it's any other day.

That is precisely why I love Honey's company so much. She keeps me grounded. A tornado or hurricane or earthquake could be going on, and she could turn to me and say something like "You know, that's a lovely dress there, Velva."

And it wouldn't be odd at all. Because that's just Honey.

Outside, people mill about. They cluster in groups and I'm positive many of those whispers are directed at me. I stand out enough. It doesn't help that I'm wearing a pretty teal dress and actual shoes. Gasp! Imagine that, someone in Eleven actually owns a pair of shoes.

I try to dodge the puddles of muddy water in what passes for a road here. Other children run right through them. A few stop to meet my eyes. They know well enough that I'm the Chosen Girl. I'm going to represent them. And so they have nothing to worry about.

At least, not this year.

And so, at least the girls are somewhat relieved.

As for the boys, I would say the position is up for grabs. We have our fair share of thieves and pickpockets and the like who I'm sure these people want to get rid of.

Then again, you can never be sure of anything with these people.

My body sighs with relief when I spot Honey in the Check-In line.

"Velva!" She calls. "Over here!"

Nobody makes a sound, even though my cutting in front of them in line has just made their wait even longer.

"Hey, Honey. Tell me, hon, how've ya been?"

She smiles. "Better, now that I'm hearing that drawl of yours."

Her hand is shaking just the tiniest bit. I squint my eyes.

Gesturing to her shaking fingers, I sigh. "Honey, are ya scared or something?"

She looks down at the offending hand with a look of slight confusion on her face. As if she's not even quite sure why she's shaking.

"Um, no Velvet." She mutters. "What could I possibly be scared of?"

"Must be that needle about to go in you."

Honey shrugs and manages to grin, even as the needle enters her arm. "Nah, C'mon, Velva. You know I ain't scared of a silly little needle."

Since Honey and I are both the daughters of Peackeepers, it's fair to say that we're not well-liked at school. Well, what passes for school in this place anyway. The requirement here in Eleven is that kids go to school at least three days a week until they're eighteen. Many of the kids just do that. But still many others don't even do that. I haven't seen Jonah Willis or Seeder Lancaster show up for school since the Eighth grade.

Honey waits politely while the needle enters my skin.

"Name?" An impatient looking woman asks.

"You already know it, hon." I drawl softly. "But I understand. It's Velvet Leporis."

With that, I spin on my heel and walk over to where the seventeen year old girls stand. They part like the Red Sea when Honey and I show up.

"Stupid girls." Honey mutters.

"Let's be honest here, Honey. We stand out."

She laughs behind her hand. "In more ways than one."

And it's true. I assure you I am the only girl in the entirety of Eleven with scarlet-colored hair and blue eyes.. And Honey is the only one with long, straight dirty blond hair. Only Peacekeepers' kids look like us. The rest of the citizens have dark skin, wild hair, and dark eyes.

So it's no wonder why small children tend to stare.

But I don't mind. I've always liked attention. Which is really not a bad trait to have.

And now, I can feel everyone's eyes on me as the escort pulls out a slip of paper after that video thing they always show us.

_It's the boys' slip, you idiots! _I want to shout.

See what I mean? Maybe these poor, ignorant people should try to go to school.

"Gav Little" The escort calls out.

Gav Little? Hmmm. I don't recall the name. So, Gav Little, what have you done? I stretch my neck out, like all the other girls around me. Obviously, my eyes go straight toward the seventeen and eighteen year old sections. Gav must be a seasoned thief or murderer or something.

But no one in those sections moves.

"Velvet." Honey whispers. "In the front."

A wily, bony little kid walks right out of the twelve year old section.

"Really?!" I gasp, maybe a little too loudly as some girls turn to look.

But…really? The guy looks, maybe, seventy pounds. Gav has very dark skin and the whitest teeth I've ever seen. His hair is closely cut and he actually looks pretty neat. I can see his ribs sticking out just slightly.

You have got to be kidding me. He looks like a nice little kid. Kind of…cute, actually.

Jesus Christ, Gav Little, what the hell did you do? Whatever it was, it must have been big. Maybe he didn't brush his teeth and Mommy get mad at him. Or he left his teddy bear out in the hall. Or didn't do the dishes.

The kid is twelve, people.

See? This is the kind of thing I'm talking about. Honestly, Eleven could really do with some more logic. It's a damn good thing they can show some when they vote me in.

So Gav Little stands on the stage with his knees shaking and his eyes panning across the crowd wildly. He watches with intensity as the escort man from the Capital, who wears extravagant clothing, pulls the girls' slip from the Mayor's hand. I guess Gav doesn't want to meet the crowd's eyes. The eyes of his betrayers.

"Poor kid, huh Velvet?" Honey whispers.

I shrug. "Most've done something awful. Hey, isn't that a great jacket on the escort? I bet it's made of, like, cashmere or something."

Honey frowns for just a split second, but then her face clears. "Yeah. Cashmere."

"Ladies next!" The man's voice is kind of syrupy. It makes me cringe just the slightest bit.

Honey stiffens next to me.

What is with her today?

Beside me, girls shift their gazes to meet mine. They want to see how I look. How I'll react.

I just give them a nice, smug smile. I'm sure that's what they were expecting, anyway.

Most of the time, it's just best to do what people will expect.

Most of the time.

"Velvet Leporis!"

**Gav Little's POV**

Ever since I was real little, my mother told me never to climb up too high.

It's something every kid in Eleven hears. Climbing is in our blood. Sometimes we just get overexcited. And we take things too far.

And Mom's always there, warning about the branch braking. Cause sometimes kids don't think. We see the branch and we go out onto it. I know exactly how that feels. It's exhilarating. I can feel the wind in my hair and in my fingertips. I can feel my heart beating against my chest.

I pause to look down for just a split second. The ground looks so far away. That's when I think that I should go back. It's not safe. I've gone too far.

But I go forward anyway.

One inch. Then another. I slowly move my way across the branch. And it feels really, really good. Like I've conquered something. The rough wood rubs against my fingertips and it feels good to know that I'm grounded to something,

Suddenly, I hear a crack.

Next thing I know, I'm falling. Feels like it takes a million years to hit the ground. And I'm just questioning everything I did. Was it all worth it?

Thud.

The wind is knocked straight out of me. And I can't feel a thing.

That's how I feel right now.

Like I've just gone out too far.

My name is Gav Little. And I am a thief.

Why didn't I see it coming? I'm a bad kid. Bad kids are the ones who nab food right out of others noses. Bad kids just assume they're never gonna get caught. Hah! Like I thought I was some kinda magician or something. Every time I ran, I thought that there ain't nobody on this green earth that coulda caught me.

Serves me right that I get caught.

But I still don't wanna die just as much as every other person.

I may be just twelve, but I ain't stupid.

Death is very real. And it's sure something to be scared of.

Mom holds me in her arms, like I'm five years old. But you know what? I don't think I mind at all. She reminds me of the wood on the tree beneath me. Something to keep me grounded.

She doesn't say a word. She doesn't have to.

I've always liked those rare moments when Mom is silent. What with six kids, they don't come too often.

"Momma?" Willie asks tentatively. "Why are you crying?"

"Nothing, dear." She wipes her eye on her hand. "It's just that your big brother has to go away for a while and I'm going to miss him."

"Where's he going?" Lily pipes up.

"The Capital." Azalea says quickly. Olive raises her eyebrow. "Just the Capital."

Does Azalea know?

"Gav going away?" Basil holds his finger to his mouth.

"Yeah, Basil. But he'll be back." Olive smiles to him softly. So blissful in her own naivety, I guess you could say. That's just fancy talk for saying that you can be happier stupid. That's how come little kids are so happy. Cause they don't know what a damn crappy place the world is.

"Oh, Gav." Mom whispers. "I'm so proud of you."

"Huh?"

She smiles a little, so I'm glad my confusion has managed to make her smile.

There's nothing I like more than seeing someone smile.

"It's just that you've been such a big help to me." She runs her hands through my hair, like she did when I was Willie's age.

"Yeah, but not in the best way ever." I mumble.

"You're a real good big brother." Olive says solemnly.

"I'm gonna miss you lots." Willie sniffs.

"Yeah! Who's gonna play checkers with me?" Lily bounces on her toes.

"I'll play with you, Lily." Azalea says.

But Lily only stomps her foot. "No! Gav's the best and you cheat sometimes, Zay-Zay."

I'm not sure why, but this has us all laughing. My mother stars with her rippling laugh that I've always loved so much. Then Lily follows, giggling in that way she does. Olive follows tentatively, like always. Willie laughs loudly, his eyes animated.

"Zay-Zay cheats!"

Azalea makes a big show of rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at him. It's a face so ridiculous that we all end up laughing even harder.

"Now Gav, you'll want something to remember us why'll you're gone, won't you?"

My mother is doing everything she can to cover up where I'm really going.

Kinda like when a kid's grandpa died. His Momma is probably gonna say something like "Grandaddy passed away." Or maybe "Grandaddy left us." Or "He's gone to heaven."

Well, what's heaven anyways? Cause I haven't heard nothing about it.

But what's wrong with just telling the kid "He's dead."

That wouldn't leave us wondering. Cause if you say "He's passed away," that sounds an awful like he just drifted off like a leaf or something. Drifted to where, then? Where'd he pass to? What'd he pass in the first place? And if you say "He's left us," well, where'd he leave to? It must've been lots better than here then. And if you lose the old "He's gone to heaven," nobody even knows what that means!

So just say "He's dead." Ain't nothing to wonder about. He's dead and in the ground. And that's all there is to it.

"That sounds fine, Momma." I mumble.

Willie suddenly jumps up. "I got something, Momma!"

"Watcha got, Willie?" I ask.

His grubby face breaks into a grin. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of leather. On it, he's penciled in the letters of his name, all squiggly and slanted and the handwriting of a boy who's just learned how to write.

"It's great."

"Wait!" Azalea shouts. "That's just his. I have to add something, so you can think of me too."

She pulls out a rock with a hole right through the top. It's pure white and very small.

"Oh, Azalea." Mom says. "That's very nice, but he can only take one thing."

"That's not fair." She pouts.

"I know what to do." Olive's little voice reaches over us. "I have some string in my pocket."

I'm beginning to see where she's going. "And Momma always has her sewing needle in her pocket!"

My mother opens her mouth in a wide "O" of surprise. "Well, what clever children I have!" She takes the needle out of her pocket and pierces a whole in the leather strip. Carefully, she threads the string through the hole in the leather, and then through the hole in the knot. With only a mother's precision, she knots the string tightly.

"There!" She exclaims.

"I wanna add something to it." Lily whines softly.

"How 'bout you use Momma's needle and pencil your name in their like Willie did? And maybe Basil can add a B or something?" I try.

I'm really thankful for this. It's getting my mind off of what's gonna come real soon.

So, under Momma's watchful eye and guiding hand, Lily adds her name and Basil adds a little "B", which is the best a three-year old can manage.

"It's like it's a little bit of all of you guys." I whisper.

"Yeah! Exactly!" Azalea says confidently.

I finger the scrap of leather, now made heavy by the rock on its end.

"Kids, would you all mind if I talk to Gav a little by himself? Why don't you all give him a-a….goodbye hug?"

They nod. First, Basil buries his little head in my side and lets me give him a big hug. He has no idea what's going on. He won't for a long while. So I guess that does manage to make me feel a little better. I guess.

Lily runs to me and throws her arms around me. She's always been what Mom calls an "affectionate girl" which means she gives a lot of hugs, I think.

Olive and Azalea give me one at the same time, with Olive burying her head in my shoulder. Like a little rabbit, Momma used to say.

Last is Willie, who climbs up on my lap and stays there until Azalea motions for him to go with her.

The door shuts with a click.

"Momma?" I say.

And that's when I think we both break down.

I feel my fingers clutching her shoulders as her body racks with sobs. In out. In and out. Her chest heaves up and down.

"Momma Momma Momma Momma" I feel myself repeating myself over and over again like some three year old.

But she's doing the same. Except she's saying my name.

Her eyes meet mine, both of ours are red as the sky in the winter mornings.

"I can't say goodbye, Gav. I can't" She moans.

"Then don't."

"Hon, you're the bravest kid I know."

I grin up at her, even though I still feel tears slipping down my cheeks. Stupid me. Stupid Gav. I gotta stop crying. I gotta stop showing Mom I'm scared. Cause if I show her that I'm not scared, maybe then she won't be. Sometimes a guy has to grow up and learn that he's gotta take care of his mother. And I have to do that right now.

"It'll be okay."

"Course it will." She smiles down at me.

Better.

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

I jolt up at this. "No!" I shout. "It's not!"

"Gav," She says in a low, serious voice, "I was the one who let you get away with…with what you've been doing."

I shake my head fiercely. "Nu-uh. It's my fault. But even then, it's no one's fault. Not really. You had to work all day but you didn't have enough money. And we didn't have a Daddy to be the man of the house. So I had to. Which means I had to feed the little guys."

"Thank you." She says. But I'm not too sure what she's thanking me for.

"Um, I love you Mom." I say quietly.

She pats my knee, like she used to when I got a scrape or a fever.

"I love you, too." Her smile is so sad it feels like m heart's just gonna break right in two.

"I just got one question." I say, to break the silence.

"Yes, Gav?"

"What do you think heaven is?"

**Velvet Leporis's POV**

He's just sitting there. Utterly silent.

I'm not used to this. Did he do this during Emy's goodbyes? Was he this silent? I can't remember.

All I know is that I'd rather have him screaming. I'd rather have him lecturing me on strategy or something. I would love for his old self to resurface. I want to see him red in the face from yelling. A tense jaw from anger. Anything rather than this cold, unfeeling rock.

I press my hands together and study my fingers.

He still doesn't even notice.

It's like his eyes are staring at something I can't see. He stares at the wall with a kind of concentration I've never seen.

"Dad?"

He blinks twice, sharply. "Oh? What is it Velvet?"

"I-nothing, I just wanted to make sure you were still with me here." My voice has a cutting, sarcastic edge. So different from my normal good-natured drawl.

Sometimes I think there might be two kinds of me. And I think just about everyone is the same. There is one "me" reserved for closed doors and family members. The other "me" is the one everyone else sees. In this case, she is the calm, collected and calculating girl I wish to see myself as.

And the one my father sees?

He sees a scared little girl who misses her family.

Maybe that's why he's so strict. He can't bear to see a member of the family grief-stricken from his stupid actions. In this case, stupid for making Emerald volunteer. Wasn't it clear to him that she wasn't Games material? Could she have made it any more obvious?

Suddenly, a low rumble comes from outside. Rain starts pouring in sheets.

I watch the raindrops run down the windowpane.

It was raining when we found out about my mother's death. And it was raining when we found out about Emy's.

My mother died when I was five.

It had been another terrible night. Emy and I were hiding in our bedroom, peaking through the crack in the door. I was crouching down, out of fear and just so I could see better. I wanted to look away. Wanted to bury my head in Emy's nightgown and pretend nothing was happening. But I kept looking.

My father was beating my mother.

"Go to sleep, Velva." Emy whispered.

"I can't" I whispered back. And she seemed to find that a good enough excuse.

That's when I heard the door slam.

Emy turned to me. She had a look of fear and excitement on her face. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. She sat up in the bed. We'd been sharing because I was too scared to sleep alone. Leaning on her elbows, she turned to me with a wild look in her twelve-year-old eyes.

"Mommy's done it now, Velva." She said right in my ear.

"Done what, Emy?"

"Don't you see?!" She exclaimed. "She's run away."

At first, I suppose we were proud of our Mommy. She'd really done it! Emy spent half the night whispering to me that she had gone to a better place. Maybe she would stay at a friend's house or even sleep in a cave. The idea was wildly exciting to us.

I think it hit us sometime near morning.

Our Mommy had gotten away. She had escaped the clutches of the terrible beast that was our Daddy.

Mommy was free.

But she had forgotten to take us with her.

I remember that we spent the rest of the day in our room while our father slept, drunk on whiskey and his own rage. We waited for her. Daddy was sleeping, Emy reasoned, so she could sneak in the window. We'd better pack, so we could be ready on time.

I can remember giggling with her as we packed our prettiest dresses.

"I know!" I said suddenly. "Mommy's gonna take us to the Capital!"

Oh, Emy's eyes opened wide at that one. Both of us dreamed of someday going there. She was twelve. She must have known such a thing to be impossible at the time. How could she take us there? But if she did, she didn't say a word.

Maybe she did it for me.

Night fell. And so did the rain. And we just kept staring out the window until the knock came on the door.

It was a farmer. He said he'd been on his way home from work when he saw our mother's body floating by in the swollen creek.

To this day, I still wonder if she jumped.

"Velvet?"

My father's call for me cuts through my thoughts.

"Yes?" I answer hesitantly.

It suddenly strikes me that his eyes look very tired. They have this worn out, droopy look to them. As if he's done fighting, if not just for a moment. Maybe he's ready to be my father for just a minute. Granted, it is the minute before I leave him to go fight for my life.

"I can trust you, can't I?" His voice sounds scared. Almost…weak.

Unsure of what exactly he means by this question, I answer what I can only hope as confidently.

"Yeah, Dad. You can trust me." I mumble.

"Don't let my training go to waste." His eyes meet my own. He wants this. He wants something to redeem his broken family's honor.

And he'll get that honor even if it puts the life of his last remaining family member at risk.

But what difference does that make?

I want this just as badly as he does.

"I won't let your training go to waste, Dad. Every day you've been training me for this. It's my everything."

He nods, satisfied for the moment. "Yes, Velvet. It is your everything."

Suddenly, I feel an intense loneliness just sitting here with this man.

"Dad? Is Honey here?"

But he only waves his hand dismissively. "You mean that friend? Velvet, you know why I've told you since you were young. Try not to make any ties to the people here. They are scum. Rats, Velvet. And nothing more. They don't understand anything about the Capital or its generosity"

"Rats?!" I hold back a gasp. "Honey's different. She's been my best friend for seven years!"

He shrugs like this means nothing at all. "Once you win, you won't be seeing much of her anyway."

"That's true." I say slowly. But I'm not entirely willing to admit it.

Now wait a minute. Haven't I been so eager to leave this place for forever and a day?

"That boy that's been picked along with you," my father starts, "You may as well just kill him in the Bloodbath."

"Why?"

As soon as that word comes out of my mouth, I regret it. Never, ever ask my father why. What am I, clueless? But there it was. A little slip of defiance. Of rebellion.

"Why?" He repeats after me. "Because he's a runt, that's why. Get him and all the other runts out of the way. That's what the Bloodbath is for, right?"

"Right. But Dad, he's just a kid."

My father gives a sharp, short laugh. "Aren't you all?"

This makes me stop to think for a moment. Well he makes a valid point. We are all just kids. And I suppose the Careers like to pretend otherwise. But even they, to a certain extent, know that it is true. While I will be older than the majority of the rest, I'm still a kid too.

Not like I've ever really been treated like one.

At long last, a tiny buzzer sounds. My father has to go.

Fine. That's better, actually. Now I can finally clear my mind and focus on my strategy.

"Velvet."

My father sits across from me, poised to get up at any moment.

"Yeah?"

"Don't, uh, please don't do what, I mean, I trust you. Fight, okay?"

He meant to tell me not to do what Emerald did six years ago.

"Fine, Dad." Is all I say.

"Good. Good." He mutters.

And for a moment, he lifts his arms. His shoulders lift up. It can't be just my imagination. I'm sure he moves forward towards me.

He's going to hug me. Finally, my father has decided to become a father.

Maybe losing most of his family to his own selfish actions has opened his eyes. Maybe he finally wants to say goodbye. To do things right. He might even be wanting to this for his wife and daughter. Show them that he's turned around.

I study those arms, lifted and ready.

But as soon as the moment came, it is gone.

His arms fall limply back to his side. He gets up stiffly and walks out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

He doesn't care.

Did he, for just a moment there?

He couldn't have. He never has cared. Why start now?

I watch the man who has made my life a living nightmare walk out of the room.

The man who destroyed my childhood is leaving. That was the man who tormented me. Who took away my family. He is cold and heartless. He does not care.

Why then, do I suddenly feel so lonely?

**A/N And thus concludes the sad stories that make Eleven. So one of our amazing submitters, RuetheDay, has several stories out. One of the things she does is asks her readers what their favorite quote of the chapter was.**

**So…what's yours?**

**Let me know in your review!**

**Trivia Question Time!**

**Question: What name is the name "Gav" a shorter version of? In other words, where did Gav's name come from?**

**Hint: It's a character in a very popular musical who has lots of things in common with him.**

**On another note, how 'bout that poll?**

**Vote on it to make my day! :)**


	14. D12: The Broken and The Innocent

**A/N The final Reaping! Oh my goodness, people. Cadence Basil is my character, but with a lot of character ideas from one of my submitters. I think you'll find that he has a lot in common with a character who is very familiar to all of us.**

**In case you're wondering why I have two of my own characters in here, it's because I'd like to have control over which chapter at least a few characters die in. So if we need more Bloodbath tributes, or it's about time for a death and the remaining tributes are just too awesome, I won't feel as bad killing off one of my own. Jezebelle Holden is penned by iloverueforever. She's a very popular author around here for a good reason! Her Quell ideas are one of the best you've ever heard.**

**Now, without further ado, I present Cadence and Jezebelle!**

**Cadence Basil's POV**

They weave in and out of the crowd.

It's so hard to believe that she's no longer one of them. The ones with dresses who show off the fabric and jump between clothesline ropes. The ones with ribbons in their hair and thin arms poking out of torn shirts.

At any moment, I think I could see her white-blond hair peak out. Dodging a boy in a game of tag. Making dolls out of hyacinth petals.

Is she really gone?

Most of the time, I can see her smile everywhere.

I see it in the bark of the oak tree I pass every morning on the way to the Market. I see her blue eyes in a tiny puddle, left over from last night's rain. I catch a glimpse of her smile, grinning at me from behind her favorite hiding place in the forsythia bushes.

That's where it feels like she is. Like she'll just pop out at any moment.

_Surprise, Cadence! Were you worried?_

_No, Harmony. I knew you'd come out all along._

But that's not what will happen.

I watch as a young girl approaches. In her hand, I see a flash of silver. Money. Something hardly anyone has in Twelve.

Her mother watches her closely. An older girl stands next to her, with her arms crossed.

That explains this little girl's money. A small treat for today. In exchange for the fact that she's going to have to watch her big sister's agony as the unfortunate kid is chosen. A little compensation, just in the tiny case "big sister" over there is chosen.

Like a little cake can solve all those problems.

She bounces over to me, infinitely excited. I notice her feet are bare. Of course. Whose aren't? We're the poorest of the poor.

"Hello." She says shyly and blinks her wide, brown eyes.

"Hi." I give her a smile. "You look excited."

The girl giggles behind her hand. "It's just…I've never had a cake before."

Her words ring in my head. She must have seen my little cart each morning on her way to school. Surely, it must be agonizing for a little kid to see cakes and breads and cookies all swirled in frosting and not be able to have any of them.

"Well, that just makes this one extra special, doesn't it?"

She nods solemnly before picking out a little pink-frosted cake, no bigger than my hand.

"Mom says today is a special day, that's why." She says softly, almost to herself. "It's Fern's special day. Her first Reaping."

"Is Fern your sister?" I ask, even though I know the answer. I wrap the cake in wax paper.

"Yeah. She's twelve." The girl answers. Then she adds, "I'm nine."

I slip the cake into her hands as she places the shiny coin in mine.

I don't bother to tell her the cake is actually worth two of these coins.

As I watch her run to her mother and show the cake to Fern, my thoughts blur to Harmony.

Harmony is nine years old too.

Maybe she even knows this girl.

But instantly, I have to shake that out of my head. It's unlikely. Even impossible.

After all, Harmony has been nine years old for three years.

She won't play another game of tag. She'll never giggle with her friends while they make their hyacinth dolls. I'll never feel her tiny body curl up next to mine, desperate to end the gnawing nighttime hunger that's set in.

Harmony won't be there to throw her arms around me. To bury her head into my shoulder. Or to beg me for another piece of bread.

She is dead.

I was sixteen when she passed. We were living at our grandparent's house together. It wasn't too bad, really. In fact, I'd go as far to say we were a happy family, albeit slightly broken. Throughout my Harmony's childhood, no one bothered to tell her why she was living with her grandparents instead of her real parents.

I told her once. I said that our grandparents were much better. I said we didn't even have a real daddy. Which is true. We still don't.

Of course I would never use the word "prostitute."

But I did my best to give her a happy childhood. Our grandparents did well enough in that respect too.

What Harmony always loved to do best was bake. And eat the result, of course.

Even when the sickness was causing her to waste away and whither like a leaf in the fall. She still grinned every time her grandmother placed something sweet in front of her. Such times were rare. No one had enough for any kind of sugar. But good old grandma was a genius. She came up with all sorts of substitutes and creative recipes.

Once Harmony started getting sick, that's when I started baking for her. I had never liked baking before, being a stereotypical "big guy" type. But heck, I'd do anything to see her grin again.

That mysterious sickness, something that meant her immune system was basically shut down, lasted for five months. Five months of constantly being sick. Of having all of us hover around her in the crowded little cabin near the mill pond. Of not being able to play outside like all the other kids.

It was almost a relief when she finally died.

Almost.

Shortly after we buried her, I left the house for one of my own. Sure, it only had one room.

But it had a stove. And that was enough.

I started baking up a storm. That weekend, I took my cakes and muffins and cookies and brought them to the Market.

Ever since then, I've been doing well enough to support myself.

I finger my pockets. More coins than usual, today. Maybe I can get some stew later on. Good stuff, made by a woman. Hate to say it, but my stew doesn't compare. Sure, I can trap and hunt myself. And worst comes to worst, my grandparents are always there.

But I like doing things myself.

The sun is climbing higher in the sky. It might be wise to pack on up.

"Hey, Cadence!"

I turn to the voice. And a grin forms on my face.

Emmett had been my closest friend since day one of kindergarten. Ever since he stuck two crayons in his mouth and declared himself a walrus, I was hooked.

Ree sort of slipped in when niether of us were looking. That was maybe around the fourth grade. She was a tomboy and could run faster and spit further than any of the boys. And so, despite the fact that she was of the opposite gender and such relations often resulted in the "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" song, we let her in.

She and Emmett declared themselves a couple shortly before I left school for good.

It didn't matter to me. Frankly, I'd always had an eye on Chessa Williams.

That was before I realized how stupid it all is, of course.

Still, Emmett and Ree seem very happy together.

Now, her arm is linked around his. She grins and waves at me.

"Hey, Ree. Emmett." I nod at him.

"Quite a spread, eh?" Emmett smiles slyly.

"Yeah, I'm gonna pack it up right now."

"Did you take tesserae?" Ree shifts her feet and meets my eyes.

I nod. "Only a little. I just took some to make sure I wouldn't have to rely on my grandparents for help. Besides, considering our district was the only one offered that opportunity, I figured I'd better jump on the chance. I mean, I know the consequences and all…"

"How does it work?" Emmett asks.

Ree straightens. She's always been pretty smart. "For all the tesserae you take, a fake vote goes in for you. The more tesserae, the more fake votes. The President only instituted it to prevent riots here in Twelve, where most of our food supply depends on that tesserae mush."

"Huh." Emmett says softly. "Guess I ain't gonna be so great, huh?"

"You did what you should've, Emmett. Everyone knows your little brothers couldn't survive on just you dad's miner's salary." I try to sound reassuring.

He just shrugs. "Yeah, guess so."

Ree only stares at the distance.

Emmett nudges her with his sharp elbow. "Ree, how much did you take?"

She clears her throat and stares at her shoes.

But I think we both know. Ree has little ones at home, as she puts it. And her dad's been mysteriously gone for quite some time now. I honestly have no idea where he went to. I suppose I could ask Emmett, but I have a hunch he doesn't know either. My idea is that he did something against the law. Maybe got caught by a particularly tough Peacekeeper. Or maybe he just died. Or split.

Who knows?

The point is, none of us seems that safe.

"So how is school?" I ask, vaguely trying to change the subject.

"Same old same old." Emmett answers.

Ree rolls her eyes. "I think they've finally run out of stuff to teach us. We're just learning about coal infrastructure and all that. But the teachers know better than anyone that algebra and history and all that is useless. The boys'll become miners and the girls'll all be their wives or launders or something."

"Yeah. Pretty stupid." I force a tense, tight laugh out of me.

Emmett suddenly drops his gaze to meet mine. "Cadence, Ree and I, well, we wanted to ask you something serious."

"Uh…okay."

"We wanted to know who you voted for."

I shuffle my feet and stare down at one of the muffins I made. "I voted for Garrett Pine."

Saying so turned out to be remarkably easy. Of course, every time I say his name is reliving the ordeal again

Emmett nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I've never really liked the guy. Still…it ain't worth, you know."

"Well, it might not even make a difference. Who we voted for, I mean." Ree states matter-of-factly.

"Of course!" I almost smack my forehead. "The tesserae votes!"

Emmett goes a little pale. "So that means…some perfectly good kid could get thrown in?"

Ree just nods.

We're back to square one.

"God, this is so unfair!" Emmett moans.

"Isn't it all, though?" Ree says bitingly.

Suddenly, a little girl zips towards my cart. I see her often. She comes here almost every day. The odd thing is, she's never actually bought anything. Just sort of stands there, staring. Her black hair is always tied back in little braids and she has a dimple on her left cheek. Looks about ten or so.

"Hey there, can I help you?" I ask, just like every other day.

"No thank you. I'm just looking." She says shyly, just like every day too.

She grins up at me. "I bet my little sisters would really like something though. I gotta tell 'em we can't afford cakes and those things."

I frown. "That's too bad. Well, maybe if you're extra lucky, one of the cakes might come out shaped wrong or something and I can't sell it. Then maybe I'll give it to you." I give her a little wink.

Of course, I don't mention that I sell everything I bake. Sugar is just too expensive.

But the girl literally jumps for joy. "Really?!"

"Yeah, really."

I can see Ree smiling softly. Maybe I can hook up her little siblings with a cake or cookie or something. Though, Ree doesn't seem like the type to accept charity.

"My name's Jezi." The girl says. "Short for Jezebelle. But my Momma says it's too big a name to fit quite yet. I'm called Belle too."

Emmett whistles teasingly. "Hey Miz Jezebelle, better scram on outta here. There's a real big ceremony starting soon."

Ree smiles down at her. I know she has a little sister too. How old's Ree's sister? Seven? Eight? Ah, who can keep of it all anyway?

"Well kid, I gotta get headed to the Ceremony so I'm just packing up." I tell Jezi.

She looks up at me. "Oh, I'm on my way to that."

I tilt my head a little. That's odd. She always struck me as a little kid. Strange. I guess she's at least twelve then.

Ree's mouth hangs slightly open as Jezi runs, and then even almost skips over to the area where people will soon crowd. She looks so nonchalant. Like she truly has no idea where she's going. What she's walking into. And the sight of it almost breaks my heart.

"Jeez." Emmett whistles. "Jeez."

Ree's mouth is set in a deep frown. "God, I hate this place."

She and Emmett walk away and I roll my cart toward home to get dressed in something a little nicer.

Along the way, I pass several groups walking to the Square. Each group is a family. Some are large, with grandparents hobbling along looking sad and bunches of children with glazed over eyes. A girl holds tightly to her mother's hand, even though she looks about fourteen. A boy with a slightly grimy face bites his fingernail. A girl who looks as though this may be her first time is crying silently.

My cart bumps and jumps along the stones. Several kids turn to look. Some glazed over expressions brighten as they see the cart. And the guy rolling it, the softie who gives them free cakes or lowers the price just cause they look a little sad.

Yeah, that's me.

I'm well-liked enough. In any other district, there would be no chance of me going to this year's games.

Except for one thing.

I lied to Ree and Emmett.

I told them I took just a little tesserae. Just enough to support myself, I said. The truth is, the amount required to support myself, a big eighteen year old guy, is no small amount.

I took as much as possible.

Panting, I stop to rub my face with my shirt. Around me, the green tops of trees tower. Birds chirp in them, like it was any other Saturday. Bootprints that clearly belong to miners still sit fresh in the mud.

A breeze rustles the branches. In the distance, the green Appalachian mountains loom.

A sharp cry pieces the air suddenly, taking away what little beauty this place has left.

In front of me, a girl with long dark hair has suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. She digs her heels into the wet trail and grabs at the hand of a guy who looks to my age. Guess he's her older brother. He looks down, depressed even. He stares at her, a helpless look on his face.

"I cant!" She screams.

The guy glances at me, then turns to his hysteric little sister. "It's her first one." He says to me, looking thoroughly clueless. "C'mon, Hazel. It ain't so bad, I swear."

"Don't tell me that! What if I'm picked?!" She shrieks.

"You won't be." The words come out of my mouth before I even know they're there.

Hazel stares at me. "How do you know?"

I shrug. "You're only twelve. Twelve year olds never go."

Hazel sniffs loudly. But I guess my brief explanation has been found satisfactory, as she stops crying and she and her brother keep walking. He mouths a silent "thank you" to me.

I watch the two of them appear to grow smaller as they get further and further away from me.

This was just one family that the Games have brought tears to. Just one.

And what did I tell little Hazel? I'm sure I sounded so certain.

But there is no certainty in the Games.

I think of the words Ree last said to me.

_I hate this place too, Ree. I hate it too._

**Jezebelle Holden's POV**

Sometimes I wonder why birds sing.

Hasn't anybody ever wondered that before? I mean, they always seem so happy. Why?

My teacher in school says that it's because of something called their circadian rhythms or something to do with mating. Just science, she says. In fact, she says that an awful lot. Leave it to your teachers to snatch away all the magic the world still holds.

Personally, I do not believe her.

I think those birds sing just cause they're happy. And that's all there is to that.

Maybe they are happy because the tree that they're sitting in is real nice. Or that they don't have to worry about food.

Not like me.

It seems like every dang second I'm here, somebody's pestering me about food.

Right now, Kelsie's whimpering and carrying on like she always does. She drags her feet and sticks her lip out as far as it will go. Crossing her arms, her sweaty face stares at the dirt.

Mel shakes her head. "Jeez, Belle, Can't ya shut that baby up?"

Mel (short for Melleby) is eleven, which is just a year older than me. But she gets to acting like she's so much older and therefore better or something. Like she doesn't ever have to worry herself with taking care of Kelsie and Wagner. That's all my job, she thinks.

Well, they are my sisters I guess.

Kelsie's four, which Mel says is a real difficult age to be around. Wagner is six and I guess she's all right. Most of the time anyway.

We've been together on the streets since Kelsie couldn't even walk. Originally, we stuck with a big group of street kids. That's where I met Melleby. She was seven and I was six. The leader of the group was a kid named Twig who was real bad. Well, he was nice to us but he was bad.

He stole a lot. Yeah, as street kids all of us learned to steal. I learned from Twig himself cause I was a pickpocket prodigy. Being all small and cute, I made his job a lot easier. But he stole when we didn't even need it.

By the time Mel and were old enough, we realized that some things just ain't right.

So we took Kelsie and Wagner and split.

That was a year ago.

Now I'm ten.

Ten is a confusing age. I'm old enough for lots of things, but too young for others.

Ten is old enough to start really taking care of my little sisters. But ten is too young to talk and not get laughed at by grown-ups.

Ten is old enough to buy things by myself when I get the money. Ten's also too young to stop going to school without anybody noticing.

It's old enough to live without parents or any adults. Heck, I'm living proof of that.

But there's one main thing it's too young for.

Going to the Hunger Games.

I know I ain't proud of what I just did. But I had to. Besides, Mel told me I looked just like a twelve year old. Kids are short here anyway, she said.

I have to admit, Mel is almost always right.

And it wasn't hard to do. We just had Kelsie and Wagner stay in the little "den." That's basically a cave in the woods. They were happy cause we'd just found the den and all of us were real proud of it. Then Mel and I walked into town and straight to the tesserae station. I was shaking like a baby, but Mel seemed pretty calm. We walked right up to a table. The lady there barely glanced up at us from her paper. All that time, Mel just looked cool as can be.

"We would like to register for tesserae." She said primly.

The woman looked at us. "Both of you?"

I nodded. Even though I wanted to scream at her that I was only ten.

"How much?" The lady asked.

"As much as possible." Mel said, as if she'd been rehearsing it.

"You sure? You both look real young." The lady looked kinda sad right then.

"We're twelve and that's old enough." I said in my best and loudest voice.

I think I saw Mel give me a "thumbs up" under the table.

So the lady just wrote down our names and some kind of number next to it and that was that.

I turn to Mel right now. She's strolling along, holding Wagner's hand. She doesn't usually do that. So I can tell she's nervous.I'm feeling a strange feeling in my tummy too. Like a bird is flapping its wings in my large intestine or somethin'.

"Hey Mel?"

"Yeah Jezi?"

"When we got our tesserae, what were those number thingys that lady wrote down next to our names?"

Mel frowns. "Uh-I think it's something like, the bigger the number, the more chance you can get in."

"Huh?"

She shrugs. "It's like, a bunch of paper goes in with your name on it. Instead of votes. Well, no they are votes." She looks even more confused than me.

Wagner looks up at me. "What are you talking about? What's tesserae?"

"It's how we've been eating the past few months." I say matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

That's Wagner for you. She asks a simple question, gets the answer, then leaves you alone. Whereas Kelsie never stops.

"Where are we going?" She whines, right on cue. Her chubby four-year-old legs stumble. I almost feel bad for her. It's an awful hard life on a kid. Kelsie has been living on the streets literally her whole life. Mommy died when Kelsie was three months old. Daddy was already dead as of seven months, cause of something with his brain. Mommy was real sick too and it was real hard for her to give birth to Kelsie.

"Well, Kelsie, you and Wagner are gonna stay at that bench right there." I point out a little wooden bench, not too far from where Mel says we're gonna check in.

Kelsie gives a very exaggerated sigh of relief and then, taking Wagner's hand, the two sit on the bench.

"We'll be right back before you even know it." Mel says.

"You sure 'bout that?" I ask her as soon as we're out of the girls' earshot.

She shrugs. "How long can it take? Some guy reads some names and we go right back home."

There's some silence between us for a little.

"Hey, do ya think we need to get some more money for clothes?" Mel suddenly asks, like it's just an ordinary walk.

"We always need more money!" I laugh.

"Yeah." She says softly.

But I would say that we do okay. I go to school with clean clothes, cause our den is near a stream. And, like I said, Mel and I are street kids. We know the basics of pickpocketing. That money goes straight to clothes and food. In fact, nobody at school, besides other street kids, knows that I'm actually homeless.

Gosh, though I wish I could buy some of those cakes that guy brings in every day!

I stopped by again today, while Mel was "at work."

I shuffle in line. Jeez, this sure is boring! How long can checking in possibly take?

That's when I see it. The needle. The lady at the table is sticking a needle in every kid!

"Mel," I whisper through clenched teeth.

"What?"

"Needles!"

Mel's eyes widen slightly, but she looks completely normal in a second. "Oh, yeah. That's just to make sure we're the same kid who got tesserae or something."

I can't help it. A whimper comes out through my lips.

Mel rolls her eyes. "Don't be a baby."

I try not to flinch when the needle goes through. But it still hurts a ton. Stupid Mel, I think to myself. Stupid Mel who thinks she's so tough. Why am I always the baby? Mel's even said that Kelsie can take pain better than I can! Come on, I know that I'm sensitive and all.

Okay, yeah, I get it. I'm a sensitive kid.

But any pain from that nasty old needle goes away when I see the crowd of kids.

"Oh woah." I whisper.

"Yeah. Woah."

"There must be, like, a jillion billion kids here!" I shout.

Mel turns to me and smiles. "So there's really no chance at all we're gonna get picked."

I shrug. "Wasn't even thinking about it."

She grabs my wrist and pulls me through all the kids. I catch a few familiar faces in the waves of kids. Street kids back when Mel, Wagner, Kelsie and me were part of the "pack." Some of 'em smile and give me a little wave, but others just frown and look away.

The pack never takes too well to deserters.

Mel tugs me to an area with a gray sign marked "12-F"

"Must be us." She points.

We squeeze our way through the throngs of girls. Some of them turn to me. I wonder if they recognize, or rather, don't recognize me. Maybe they know that, even though I hardly ever go to school, I'm only in the fourth grade. Or that Mel is only in the fifth. Or maybe they know that I'm not in any of their classes.

I feel my teeth start to shake and my hands go all clammy and sweaty and weird.

"Uh, Jezi, what wrong with you?" Mel whispers.

I turn to her. "What if these girls know?"

Mel huffs impatiently. "What difference does it make? We'll be outta here soon. And besides, there's lots of schools in Twelve. Not just one."

I nod to myself. Of course. With all these kids here, there's no way there could be just one school in Twelve.

Suddenly, a boom comes from the microphone.

Mel's mouth drops open.

"That's gotta be the funniest looking man I ever saw." I gasp.

He has snow white hair. Not like "old guy hair" but super white hair. And his suit is bluer than the sky in summer. Or…any real color at all.

"Welcome Twelve!" He grins strangely. "We have a little video treat for you!"

I turn to Mel, but she just shrugs at me with a clueless look on her face. Video treat? What's goin' on here? I thought all this was, was some kids getting picked to go to the Games. where they kill each other. Last time I checked, there was no "video treat" involved here!

The huge, ginormous screen above the stage flickers to life.

Images flash across. I try to cover my eyes, but it's too late. I see them. A boy with a brick slams it into another boy's head. Blood in red mist flies everywhere. Fires cover people and their skin slowly becomes black. Children run and cry with tears streaming down their faces. Blood everywhere. A girl holds her mother who is obviously dead.

I want to scream. But all that comes out is a muffled moan.

Mel looks over at me. This time, for once, she doesn't even tell me to stop acting like a baby.

Finally, the screen shuts off.

"Well, kids. I tell ya, I see that one every year and it never even gets old!" The man smiles.

Now it's no longer a nervous feeling in my stomach. I feel sick. So, so sick.

"Time for the main event!"

I feel myself clutching Mel's hand. And to my surprise, she actually squeezes mine back.

"Let's start with, oh lookie here, it looks while we'll be starting with the boys, yes?"

The mayor, looking shaky and pale as I feel, hands him the paper.

"Cadence Basil."

A flurry of sounds sounds as all the kids turn their heads to see who got picked.

"Oh no."

Mel raises her eyebrows. "What?"

"It's the Cake Guy."

"Oh." Recognition floods her face. "Oh no."

I tug at her sleeve. "Mel, I don't want Cadence to die."

She just shakes her head. "Nothin' I can do. I'm only eleven."

We just stare blankly ahead and wait for what's next. In front of me, the stage gleams a polished gleam. By tomorrow it'll be gone. Like this whole thing never even happened. Gosh, more than anything else I want tomorrow to be here. More than anything in the world.

A numbing silence.

And then…"Now for the girls!"

I feel a tear blooming behind my eyelid. Mel sees me.

"Now's not the time." She says flatly.

"Jezebelle Holden!"

A sudden shock. A stillness. I can only hear one thing. The beating of my heart, right into my eardrums.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Constant, pulsing.

Mel turns to look at me, slowly. Her eyes have nothing but shock.

That's when the dam breaks.

**Cadence Basil's POV**

_Hey, Cadence?_

_Yeah, Harmony._

_What are all those screens everywhere? And those cameras?_

_Oh, uh, that reminds me. I have to get going soon. They're for this Ceremony thing._

_A Ceremony? What's that?_

_It's to pick the kids who go to this year's Games._

_Oh. Okay. Are those the Games where kids have to kill all the other kids?_

_Harmony! Jesus, where'd you hear that?!_

_At school. Maylis says her cousin was in 'em._

_Okay…sorry you had to find out about them._

_Why? It doesn't scare me._

_Well it should, Harmony. It should._

_Are you going to be in them or something?_

_No! Of course not, Harmony. Usually only the poorest kids get sent._

_So you won't be going, then?_

_No, Harmony. _

_Promise?_

_Uh, okay. Yeah. I promise._

_Good._

Why did I promise that to her? Promises seems like such terrible things, now that I think about them. After all, they only give false hope. One could be so relieved and at ease once they hear the words "I promise." They are safe words. But suddenly, all that safety is shattered.

Because promises are almost always broken.

Well, Harmony is gone. So my one consolation is that she can't see this.

That conversation happened on just another day. She was lying in her bed, sinking into the back pillows. She would have been eight at that time. A burr sat in her chest, making her breath rattle every time she talked. Grandma hovered over her, bringing her water and bread if there was any. I was sitting on her bed, talking to her. Trying to distract her from the sight of crowds of kids all headed to the same place.

After I promised her, her mood changed. She teased and played around like any other eight year old. I remember her begging me to make her a strawberry bun. That was her favorite.

Was that really three years ago?

Oftentimes, I still have to convince myself that she in't going to come walking through the doorway. Or that I really won't be able to find her buried underneath her blankets.

To calm my scattered and shell-shocked brain down, I find myself searching for a happy memory. I will myself to leave this large, wood-lined room in the District Twelve Justice Building.

And I find one.

Harmony is five. Just a few months before things turned awful. I'm eleven. We're walking through the woods, her little hand in mine. Squealing, she points out our strawberry bush.

"Cadence, let's pick berries!"

"Yeah, okay Harmony. Grandma would really like that."

We spent the whole afternoon in those bushes. I think it's fair to say that we ate more berries than we picked. Both of our clothes were covered in red stains.

That was a good day.

Haven't had lot of those lately, huh?

The door clicks open and Ree and Emmett walk in.

Emmett look pale. Ree grips onto his elbow and she looks incredibly shaky. Both of them stare around the room with their eyes opened widely. They take in the framed picture of President Snow above the fireplace. The gleaming wooden floors and ornate furniture.

As it turns out, Emmett says exactly what I'm thinking.

"See that picture right there?" He points to the one of the president. "Yeah, this is really not the best place for that."

"Emmett." Ree's voice has a warning tone.

"Ree, it's okay." I smile a little. "I was thinking the same thing."

She sits next to me on the couch and Emmett stiffly sits on the other side of it.

"I'm sorry." She says flatly.

I grind my teeth. "Nothin' you or I can do about it."

"Oh, yeah there is!" Emmett shouts. "You can fight, Cadence. That's what you can do. You can fight."

Ree's face falls. "Emmett, I don't know about that." She says softly.

Emmett looks at Ree, then at me. "Why not?"

Ree gestures to me. "Well, Cadence has never really been the fighting type."

"Hey, Ree. I will when I have to. But you are right, I guess. I mean, I look like I would be. Being over six feet tall and everything. But I'm not. I just don't fight, you know? It's not in me. Never gotten into a fight when I went to school and I won't be getting in one any time soon."

Emmett and Ree nod.

"T-The girl who picked…" Ree suddenly whispers.

"Yeah. She was the kid we saw earlier today, right? Jezi or something." Emmett says.

I nod, feeling suddenly sick to my stomach. "She's so small."

"Well, you better not kill her!" Ree bursts out. Then she covers her mouth with her hand and the tips of her ears start to turn red. She glances up at me. "Oh, sorry, Cadence. That was uncalled for. I mean, i shouldn't have said that. I know for a fact that you won't…you know."

"Yeah, Ree. I won't."

She gives me a shaky smile. "Good."

Emmett shakes his head. "Ree, I don't know if you're saying the right thing, there. I say Cadence should do what he has to in order to survive the longest he possibly can. See what I mean, Cadence?"

I shrug. "I guess so. I just don't think I'll be able to. I mean, especially not the real little ones."

Emmett chews his lips. "You are eighteen. And you're a pretty good-sized guy. You know how to cook and take care of yourself, which is more useful than you think."

Ree snaps her fingers. "Of course! And you'd be great at hand-to-hand. You know, wrestling and all of that. Now all you'd need to do is find a weapon."

Both of them look thoughtful. Emmett wrinkles his brow. "How about a dagger? Once you wrestle down someone, you take the dagger and, well, you know."

"Or a machete or something." Ree says.

"Thanks guys, but I don't think so." I feel myself saying softly.

"What do you mean, Cadence? You want to survive, don't you?"

"Not if it means I have to kill a bunch of little kids."

Ree buries her head in her hands. She lost a good friend to the Games a few years ago, when she was thirteen. The girl's name was Lyra and she was a pretty decent kid. Emmett and I didn't mind her hanging around. She was shy an kinda sweet. I didn't know her too well. But she was pretty well-liked.

The Games have a way of touching everyone.

I pat my hand on her back in a totally pathetic attempt to cheer her up. "Ree, it's okay."

She lifts up her head. Her eyes are rimmed with red.

Emmet kneels in front of her. "Don't cry, Ree. It'll be okay."

She shakes her head, loose dirty-blond hair falling in her face. " God, no it's not! Let's not sit around here pretending otherwise!"

I clear my throat. "No, really Ree. I am gonna be just fine. You'll see."

Ree's eyes open wide. Her face fills with understanding and her mouth opens slightly. She gets it.

"Oh my God. Y-Y-You mean you're going to be okay because-because you're going to die."

I flinch. Well…when she puts it that way.

Emmett moans into his hands.

"Guys, honestly. It's what has to be done. I want it to be. I really do."

"So you'll be with Harmony." Emmett says slowly.

"Yeah, Emmett. Exactly."

To my surprise, he actually smiles. His eyes still look real sad, but he's smiling. "All right, Cadence. I think she's gonna be damn happy to see you."

Ree laughs and buries her head into my shoulder. "She sure will be." She whispers.

The buzzer sounds.

Ree lifts her head. "Well, that's that then."

Emmett pats my back. "I'll see you soon. You know, on the television."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

Ree bends down and wraps her arms around me. "Just do what you have to do, okay Cadence?"

"I will. I promise."

**Jezebelle Holden's POV**

Mel sits on the couch next to me, her fingers all laced together.

Kelsie fidgets on a chair big enough for three of her. Wagner sits on a little stool, taking the room in with a wide mouth.

"Thanks for bringing my sisters in." I mumble to Mel.

She shrugs. "It was nothin'. It's real nice in here."

And it is. After my name was picked and the man with the scary smile had me shake hands with Cadence, some Peacekeepers took me up here. We first went in these gigantic double doors that must have been super heavy. Then there was an elevator. I had never been in one of those before. It was a little scary. But not as scary as what's coming next.

"Did you ride in the elevator?" Wagner asks me with wide eyes.

I nod. "Yeah. I did."

Wagner bounces on her seat. "It was kinda weird, but fun."

Mel bends down to Wagner. "I dunno if this is the best time for this, okay? Let's give Belle some quiet time."

"No, Melly. It's okay. Hey Kelsie, isn't this place amazing?"

Kelsie shrugs as she slouches down in her chair. Sweat makes her hair cling to her forehead. Her dress is clumped and bunched under her. It's too big. It was mine when I first went into the streets. It's a brown, tannish color. It ain't real nice fabric, but it's got little flowers all around the collar.

"'Melly says you're goin' away." She says.

I take a big, slow breath. "To the Capital, Kelsie. The people dress in real bright colors and real fancy clothes and it's all more colorful than that candy we can never eat!"

Kelsie sits up. "Candy?"

Mel grabs my wrist. "I bet there'll be tons in the Capital!"

Wagner slumps down and rests her chin in her hands. "I wish I could go to the Capital."

"Oh no you don't!" I shout.

Wagner and Kelsie jump up.

"There's bad stuff there." I whisper. "A lot of the people there are mean. And…and they do mean things. Really, really mean things. They take kids. And now they wanna take me. And some of it isn't so bad, like how I get to eat yummy food and wear pretty clothes. But they're gonna make me do somethin' real bad."

Mel gives me a warning look.

But I can't help it.

"I'm so scared." I say, more to myself than anybody else. "So, so scared."

Mel pats my back. "Maybe it won't be so bad if you make an ally with a big kid."

I bury my head in my hands. "I don't belong there, Mel! I knew what I was doing when I signed up, but I never thought this would happen!"

She shakes her head. "I didn't either. You see, Jezi, people are supposed to vote for who they want in. And when we took tesserae, fake votes went in for us. But I think that people must have written your name down when they voted for real."

"Cause I'm a thief?"

Mel nods solemnly. "Yeah. Cause you're one of the best thieves in the district."

"Oh."

"They saw your name on the list of kids who were twelve, since when we took tesserae you said you were twelve. So they knew you could be voted in."

"Oh."

"I'm so sorry!" Mel cries out. "This is all my fault! If I'd never made you take tesserae, none of this would have happened. Your name wouldn't even be eligible. But I said you were twelve. I'm the liar, Jezi. And now, oh jeez, you're goi g to the Games even though you're a whole two years younger than the youngest kid!"

I shiver, even though it's hot in here. "Melly, it isn't your fault. Kelsie and Wagner needed food. We both needed food."

Wagner looks confused. "Watcha talkin' 'bout?"

Mel's lips make a thin line across her face. "Jezi's going to play a game."

Kelsie perks up. "A game? What kind of game?"

"I like games." Wagner says in an effort to join the conversation.

"Me too!" Kelsie shouts.

And I feel my eyes starting to grow little tears in them because those have always been Kelsie's favorite words to say. Ever since she could talk, she's always been saying "me too." When Twig used to take me to "pickpocketing class," she wanted to come too. "Me too!" She'd shout. Even if she didn't even know what the words meant.

"It's a long game. And she's gonna be gone for a while." Mel says slowly.

"And it's not a fun one. Not fun at all." I say softly.

"It's a bad game?" Wagner questions.

Mel nods and I feel her hand going around mine. "A very, very bad one."

"Then I don't wanna play." Kelsie says firmly.

"Why will you play it if it's bad?" Wagner asks, deep in thought.

"Because I have to. A lot of mean people are making me."

Kelsie shivers. "Scary."

"Yeah." I nod. "Scary."

Mel squeezes her hand around mine. "Sorry for calling you a baby all those times. I mean, I guess that's part of why I am so scared for you, Belle. Cause you're just a kid and, you know, you act like one. When you're scared or sad or in pain or something like that." She mumbles.

"I know, I know." I say. "I'm sensitive."

Mel shakes her head. "No, Jezi! You're real brave and real strong, even if you are just a kid. If I were you right now, I'd be crying so hard. But you're just sitting here and you look so brave!" She smiles sadly. "I wish I could be more like you."

Wagner surprises me by running up to me. "Yeah! Me too!"

"Me too!" Kelsie grins.

And I almost laugh. Cause that girl has no idea what she's talking about.

I wrap my arms around Wagner and she nuzzles her head into my tummy. Kelsie giggles and climbs up next to us. Mel puts her arms around her and around me. But she's crying. I can see salty tears making little tracks on her face. Mel is hardly a crier. It's me who cries all the time. In fact, she'd be better off in the games than I would.

It's so hard to see her like this.

"What about your token?" She asks.

I shrug blankly.

"Well, you gotta have one. Here, take my necklace."

A few months ago, Mel and I made necklaces out of some chords of leather we found and some pumpkin seeds to string along them. We died the pumpkin strings red. We were so proud of the result. I lost mine a few weeks ago, and I was real sad. That's just like Mel, I think. To give me hers.

"Thanks." I say.

She smiles. "It's nothin'. So you can pretend I'm right near you. You know, when it gets scary."

"Mel?" I whisper.

"Yeah?"

"What if…you know. What if it hurts?"

Mel looks up at the ceiling, which is strange cause I don't think the answer is up there.

"If it hurts, it hurts Jezebelle. That's all I can tell you. But it won't hurt for too long."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Why?"

Mel gets a funny look on her face. "Cause nothing hurts for too long."

**A/N I made that one just a little bit shorter because I'm sure we're all anxious for what comes next to our good tributes. You know what would totally make my day? If all of you guys could put somewhere in your review who your favorite character is.**

**That would be so awesome!**

**In fact, for those of your readers who read and don't review….Just put the character, if you want.**

**I know you're out there. In fact, if my stats are corrects, there's at least a thousand of you.**

**So thanks for sticking around, all of you! The support is wonderful! If you want to know, here's how the Capital chapters will play out. I'll even give you a refresh of the characters.**

**D1: Train Rides- As the first leg of the journey begins, Adonis begins to question some of his views that he's always believed to be concrete when his unusual district partner, Kaja, opens his eyes to a whole new side of the Games.**

**D2: Train Rides Pt.2-As the train rides continue, Julian and Shimmer realize that all Careers do not, in fact have the same goals in mind. The two begin to clash as they realize that the Career pack this year is far different than what is usually is. While Julian embraces the change, Shimmer has a thing or two to say about how the Career alliance should be.**

**D3: Arrival- Upon arrival to the Capital, Jace and Aya become more homesick than ever. Jace slowly begins to confront the fears and demons inside of him. Aya, on the other hand, realizes that fear, like wounds and illness, is often best when treated quickly. While Jace finds himself opening, Aya slowly begins to close.**

**D4: Chariot Parade- When Markus gets his first eyesight of the Career pack, he makes an important decision. One that will very well mean life or death. When Violet learns that she is not, in fact, the youngest and that the Games are full of young ones, she finds even more self-confidence in herself. But could this be fatal?**

**D5: Training, Day 1- When training begins, Jimmy is shocked to see how many people have been training for the Games. Even those where one would least expect. Katerina joins the Career alliance, but finds it isn't quite what she thought it would be. Does anything make sense anymore?**

**D6: Training, Day 2-Jake is finally forced to face stark reality when his morphine is taken away from him. And this proves no easy transition. But while Jake must get his grip on reality, Anna slowly begins to lose all touch of it. This chapter begs the question: How far is too far?**

**D7: Training, Day 3- As training draws its close, the tributes become increasingly desperate. Raen tries desperately to find an alliance, but finds that one will sneak up on him when he least expects it. He just has to open his eyes. On the other hand, for India it seems the best idea would be to simply close hers. How can she live in a place with no light? **

**D8: Private Sessions and Scores- The tension is only mounting. For Casper, the stakes are incredibly high. Now is the time to find out whether he will have a chance of making it home to what he loves most. And will the confidence Keira has been carrying be crushed by the Gamemakers, or only strengthened?**

**D9: Interviews Pt.1- Gavin realizes that this is the time to break away from how his district sees him. But who is he really trying to prove this to? As Thorn slowly begins to realize that some things are not as they seem, especially because of her new ally, she finds that sometimes it's just too late for second chances.**

**D10: Interviews Pt. 2- Now is the time for everyone to convince the Capital that they have the potential to win. And Oak discovers that proving this is more than just having a good score. Well, he hopes so, anyway. Howleen is finally starting to feel safe. She's sure that Oak is going to make a great ally. But there is no safety in the Games.**

**D11: Final Night- Gav has finally found true fear. He may be just twelve, but something seems wrong here to him. Could it be possible that his mentor…doesn't want him or his partner to win? And why is his district partner so scary? Meanwhile, Velvet tries to find a quiet place to think of what's to come. And ends up finding it in the most unexpected of places.**

**D12: Bloodbath- It all culminates to this. Cadence must make the ultimate decision. Will he play the Game? Before his eyes, he sees that others have already made the choice. And he's appalled at what he sees. As for Jezebelle, will anyone pity her because of her age? Or will they only target her? Forced to see what the Games really are, little Jezi isn't sure whether she can forgive Mel. One question prevails. Can anyone still find humanity in them at all?**

**Did you guys like that? I hope so! Okay, next stop, Train Rides!**


	15. Train Rides: Conversations

**A/N Welcome to the first non-reaping chapter! Let's explore these characters in greater depth, shall we? If you review, remember to put in your favorite quote and your favorite character. That would make my day!**

**Adonis Lockheart's POV**

The train is an enormous steel beast.

It shines a brilliant metallic silver and looks as though it could swallow up the whole district. Windows line the compartments and I can get a glimpse of the velvet and mahogany insides.

A door in the compartment right near me slides open, gliding without a sound.

I step up.

I have to blink a few times to get used to the change in light. Then, I can take in my surroundings.

There is a glass case filled with brightly colored pastries. A full bar lines the wall. Tables with red velvet lined booths sit in front of windows. The tables are all glistening mahogany. I look down and see an elaborately patterned rug. For some reason, I feel the urge to get off it because my shoes are definitely muddy.

I shudder. Sure, this place is nice and all. But I'm gonna feel really uncomfortable for the length of this trip.

Helios Sunshine, the escort rests a hand on my shoulder. It's surprisingly cold and I flinch.

"Adonis, Katherine, why don't you sit down at the table? Your mentor and I have a few things to discuss. We'll meet again at dinner."

I reluctantly slide into one of the booths.

Katherine goes in across from me, but stares at the table instead of directly at me.

That's the first sign that I see that something's weird with her.

The wooden swinging door behind us swings shut as Helios and Jem, our mentor, walk out.

Well, all right then. Time to get to know my ally. She surely knows me, anyway.

"Hey. Katherine, right? I'm Adonis. But you probably already knew that. So I'm thinking we go check out some Reaping Recaps and see the rest of the Careers, okay?"

Katherine slowly raises her head. A clump of dirty blond hair falls in front of her blue eyes. It's a shame. Those are some nice eyes. Wait a minute. If I didn't know better, I would think that this girl doesn't want to be here. That she doesn't want her district honor by going to the Games.

"Call me Kaja." She mumbles.

"Kaja? Cool name." I nod. Try to make the girl comfortable. That's what I always think. I should show her that I'm a good guy and a good ally.

She smiles a little. "Thank you."

"It's kind of strange that we haven't met, Kaja. I don't think I've ever seen you at the Training Center."

She folds her arms. "That's because I haven't been there in a long time."

I'm taken aback by this. "Huh? So…you were Eliminated?"

Kaja looks strangely satisfied that she's made me incredibly confused. Second sign that something's up here. What is with that girl? Firstly, she doesn't even have an ounce in her that seems charmed by me. Since when has a girl ever not been charmed with me?! This is going to take some getting used to.

"Yeah I was Eliminated." She says slowly, like she's testing me or something.

I blink and clear my throat. "So now, about the alliance. We'll just try to cover up from the others that you were Eliminated. Just let me take the lead and we should be fine. Follow me and don't stray, got that? Those District Two kids can be monsters and I don't want you to deal with them alone."

Kaja smirks. "Oh, so now I need your protection?"

I resist the urge to bang my fist on that nice mahogany table. "Jesus, Kaja. Just hear me through. All I'm saying is stick by me and avoid talking to anyone from Two alone. Once we've started the Games, we hunt down the ones that mean competition. Try not to let anyone get away with a weapon at the Bloodbath."

"Adonis."

"What?"

Kaja smiles softly and shakes her head. "Adonis, I'm not going to be a Career."

I gape at what is surely the strangest girl in District One. "What?!"

She unfolds her arms and leans across the table to me. For some reason, I feel incredibly uncomfortable. The hairs on my neck are standing on end. When was the last time a girl made me uncomfortable? Maybe, like, the second grade.

"I. Am. Not. A. Career." She spits each word out at me.

I shake my head. "What is with you?"

She sighs softly. "Any place that won't even let me say goodbye to my little sister is no place worth fighting for."

"Uh, I'm sorry."

She waves her hand. "Don't be. It isn't like I need your pity. I just don't want to be in your little Career pack, Adonis. It's nothing personal. It's just that I hate Careers and the idea of them in general. They're monsters, Adonis. And I pride myself in not being one of them."

"But why?"

Kaja sighs again. "I'm sorry that this is so confusing for you. I'll try to explain myself. I just hate the idea of killing little kids. It's sick. Really, really sick. Do you have any younger siblings, Adonis?"

I sit up a little. "Yeah, actually. I do."

"Could you bring yourself to think what would happen if she died in the Games?"

I frown. "But she wouldn't. She's fourteen so she couldn't volunteer. Not really."

Kaja's blue eyes widen. Damn, those are some eyes. "But in any other district that isn't a Career one, there is no volunteering or training or anything of that like. You're just picked. Whether your seventeen or fourteen or twelve. Anybody's fair game."

She flips back her hair from her face. Snap out of it, Adonis. Focus. She's just trying to mislead you or something. Focus on your goal.

"What I'm saying is, these kids in the Games with us, they have big brothers and sister. Mothers and little siblings. Families. Friends. They're children, Adonis. Not numbers. And most of them don't even want to kill you. They just want to hide and hope that their death isn't too painful."

I breathe out of my nose. "Oh, God."

She nods seriously. "Oh, God is right. Except that no one even knows what that phrase means anymore."

"But they're enemies. Kaja. They're going to stop me from getting my goal. I have to bring honor to my district."

Kaja's eyes fill with what looks like pity. And I don't like it at all. "Adonis, what is honor?"

I scratch the back of my neck. "Well, uh, that's hard to define. I mean, it's like pride, I guess. And, erm, I gotta fight to get it. And it's gonna be hard to get but then it'll feel really good when I can bring it to my district. Then, you know, then I'll be famous and all that." I stutter.

"Honor by killing small children?"

I fidget in my seat. "Well, no. I guess not. But you gotta do what you gotta do."

Kaja raises her eyebrows. "Oh, and what might that be?"

I blink.

She gets a strange look in her eyes. "I think I would rather die than kill a little, innocent kid. In my mind, that's an honorable death. It shows that I'm not willing to let anyone twist me into something I'm not. I'm not a killer. And neither are you, Adonis. I'm sure of that. In fact, no one is. You can't let people change you into something you're not."

There's a silence that suddenly descends on our table.

I rap my knuckles on the table. "So, uh, how did you get…you know, the way you are."

She breathes out through her nose. "My parents were secret rebels. At least, that's my theory."

"They didn't tell you?"

Kaja shrugs. "No, they tried to keep me hidden from stuff like that. I mean, they wouldn't want to put me in danger. They were really, really good people. My parents tried so hard to give me and my siblings a happy childhood. OF course, they were required to send us to the Centers. But they hated it. I could tell."

Something's weird here. And not for any obvious reason. "How come you said everything in the past tense?"

"They're dead." She says flatly.

"Your parents?"

"Yes, Adonis. They're dead. My siblings too."

"Oh." I shift my gaze away from her. "I'm so sorry. Have been living all alone, then?"

"No, not completely. I mean, I sort of adopted these two girls. I had to drop out of Training to take care of them. But it didn't matter because I'd stopped trying a long time ago."

I run my finger through my short hair. "This is going to sound weird, but sorry for how screwed up your life is."

She actually laughs. "That sums it up pretty well, actually."

"So Adonis, what's your story?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I have a family. We're not rich, like you probably think we are. I have a little sister Velvet, who as you know is fourteen. She's a good kid. I've been Training since I was eight." I pause, then add "I never thought anything of it."

Kaja sits back and stares at me. Her blue eyes don't even blink. She's so concentrated on whatever it is she's trying to see in me.

I take a long, deep breath and stare outside. Buildings whizz past. The buildings are becoming more and more sparse. I've never seen this part of the district. It seems like mostly factories. In the distance, I can see the beginnings of a forest start to take form.

I tap on the table. "I've never seen a forest before."

Kaja snorts. "Of course you haven't, you idiot. There are none in District One."

Did she just call me an idiot?! "You have poor social skills!" I blurt.

She leans back and smirks. "Oh, I have poor social skills? Well, you're about to enter a fight to the death with a bunch of the biggest psychos and murderers in their districts." She rolls her eyes. "Get ready to lower your standards."

I bury my head in my hands out of frustration. "What do you want from me?"

Kaja wrinkles her brow. "Well, nothing. I want nothing, Adonis. Maybe that's what's so hard for you to get used to."

This time, I lean back into the booth. She's right.

All of a sudden, the doors burst open. Helios and Jem, along with a woman I've never seen before rush in. Helios is grinning from ear to ear. Jem gives Kaja and me a little smile, but it doesn't really reach his eyes. The woman just looks kind of blank.

"It's dinner time!" Helios exclaims.

Good. I'm starving.

We sit down at a large table bolted down in the floor of the train. Our chairs are bolted down too. I guess it's because the train is moving so quickly that they'd probably fall over. People dressed in strange uniforms come out with silver trays. And once I see what's on them, my mouth immediately starts to water.

One tray has a shiny green salad filled with round tomatoes that look like gems. One of the servers puts some on my plate. Another pours orange soup into a crystalline bowl. I lean in to sniff it. God, this must be heaven.

Everyone takes bites of their salad and soup. Jem eats like he'll never see food again and I follow his lead. It's just so good. Helios takes big bites of food, which I guess has contributed to his round figure.

Kaja takes small bites, as if she thinks the food is poisoned or something. The woman just pushes her food around on her plate.

Helios wipes his mouth with a napkin. "Ah, forgive me Katherine and Adonis. I haven't introduced you to your mentors yet."

"Call me Kaja." Kaja mumbles.

Helios gestures to Jem. "This is Jem Sullivan. He won the Ninth Games."

Jem gives us both a curt nod.

"And this is Lynx Myrrh. The winner of the Seventeenth Games."

Lynx's mouth twitches a little.

I'm about to push my chair back from the table, when servers come out with even more food!

There's chicken surrounded by herbs and in a delicious lemon sauce. I eat every bite and wish for more. But there's other food to enjoy. Green beans lathered in a creamy white sauce. Potatoes covered with warm cheese and bits of crunchy red meat bits. I sigh in delight at that one. Then there are fluffy bread rolls in the center of the table. They melt in my mouth and I have three.

Jem laughs when he sees how much I'm eating. "There's plenty more where that came from, boy! Wait 'till you reach the Capital."

Helios leans across the table. "So, what can you two do?"

Of course, I start. "I've been training since I was eight. My best weapon is a sword. I can do hand-to-hand pretty well. I was voted in because everyone thought I would win."

Jem nods. "Good. Good."

Lynx stares at Kaja. Her eyes are a strange, watery sort of gray. "Now Kaja, what can you do?" She asks very, very softly.

Kaja fidgets in her seat. "Well, I haven't been to the Training Center in a while. I was Eliminated. Well, sort of. I kind of just stopped trying. I was voted in just because my family was kind of…unusual. I mean, my district doesn't think I'll win. That's not why I was voted in."

Lynx shakes her head and actually smiles. "I didn't ask whether or not your district thinks you can win, Kaja. I want to know what you can do."

"If I can get my hands on a hunting knife, I'm okay. I'm pretty fast and level-headed."

Lynx nods. She really doesn't look or seem like District One at all. She has dark hair piled on the top of her head and those odd gray eyes. Her manner seems like more of one from District Three. She and Kaja should get along.

"Being level-headed is very important." She says.

Jem looks like he's going to roll his eyes. Obviously, he doesn't exactly agree with Lynx's mentoring strategy.

Helios suddenly steps back from the table. "Well," he says, "We'd better get going."

Jem stands. "Ah, of course. There's a television in the next room. We wouldn't want to miss the Reaping Recaps."

Time to see the competition.

**Katherine Jasmine Thomas (Kaja's) POV**

I walk stiffly over to the room with the television. It's in its own separate compartment.

How big is this train?

I don't want to see these Reapings. Of course, there is a curiosity inside me. But I still don't want to do this.

The television takes up a whole wall. In front of it, there is a couch. Like all the other furniture, it's bolted into the ground. The couch is made of velvet, which figures. Isn't everything here? I cringe, remembering that most of the furniture in my house is also velvet. But this is different. Stiffer, somehow.

Adonis sits on the couch and looks excited. Of course. He's just another Career.

Then again, maybe he isn't.

I saw the way his eyes widened when I was talking to him. I saw the way he took in my words, turning them over and over gain in his head like he was trying to understand them.

And that right there must be precisely why I think Adonis is different from all other Careers.

He actually tried to understand my point of view.

So maybe he isn't hopeless after all. Maybe I can still reach him.

I breathe through my nose. Why is he suddenly becoming my project anyway? Who cares? It must be one of those "before I die" things.

Jem rests his hands on the back of the couch and lets out a sigh. He seems so comfortable here. How could anyone be comfortable here? I bet Jem was a terribly bloodthirsty Career in his Games. I bet he killed a twleve year old or something. He just seems so normal and relaxed here that it's completely unnerving.

Lynx gestures to the couch. "Have a seat, Kaja."

I feel myself turning pale.

"It'll be okay." She whispers into my ear, so softly only I can hear her.

So I sit. And Helios turns on the gigantic television.

A guy in maybe his mid-twenties appears on the screen. He sits at a metallic desk and looks at a pile of papers in his hand. It must be his script. Next to him, an older man smiles at the camera. He looks like this si just another day fo work. Which, for him, it probably is.

"Hello Panem!" The younger man starts. "My name is Claudius Templesmith and I'll be your announcer for this year's Games!"

The older man grins. "I'm Xavier Flickerman! And don't we have an exciting bunch this year, am I right, Claudius?"

Claudius nods. "Exciting, indeed. As you may know, this year was our very first Quarter Quell."

Xavier brings his voice to a serious tone. "Yes, this year's Quell stated that all tributes must be voted in."

"Well, let's see who you all voted for!" Claudius exclaims. In fact, he said it in much the same way one might say "Well, let's see if we should have chicken or beef for dinner."

The screen suddenly morphs into what I immediately recognize as my home. District One. Crowds of excited-looking kids mill about, mostly blond. I finger my own dirty-blond hair. I can't even spot my face in the sixteen year old girls section. I blend right in.

Adonis is called up, looking calm and collected as ever. Then I come up, a contrast between us both. I'm shaky and pale and turning green with worry. I can read my own thoughts from back here. _What will happen to Anastasia and Rosemarie?_

I feel myself going limp.

Lynx's hand is on my back. "I know." She whispers.

That's enough. Rosie and Ani are going to be just fine. I have to stay calm. I just….have to stay calm.

Finally, the scene changes to District Two.

I never thought I'd be so relieved to see my least favorite district.

The boy is pretty big. Dark hair and olive skin give him the overall appearance of just another Career. Still, his eyes are missing that coldness. I can see that right away. Instead, he just looks a little disoriented and even sad. Sad? Impossible.

"Julian, that's his name." Jem says softly. "District Two. You always gotta look out for them. Never let them be the last one awake. Because they will kill you. And they won't think anything of it."

The girl's name is Shimmer. Which I find a little strange, as that's a very typical District One name. Actually, now that I notice it, everything about her seems like she belongs in One. She has the platinum blond hair and everything. HEr eyes are a cold, ice blue. The camera zooms in on them. And she gives it a little smirk.

Helios gives a little whistle. Even I have to admit, this Shimmer girl is stunningly beautiful. Half the girls in One would kill to look like her. Literally.

Jem shakes his head. "Something about that girl is making me uneasy. I can tell you that right off. Julian really doesn't seem so bad next to her. But Shimmer…no, stay away from her. She's bad news."

Adonis nods. "Yeah, I'm getting that too."

The screen goes back to Claudius and Xavier.

"So Claudius, what do you think of our Career districts here?"

Claudius shuffles through his file. "Well, according to my file on him, Adonis is well-trained. His district believes him capable of winning."

Jem grins and pats Adonis on the back. But Adonis only manages a wan sort of smile. I wonder why. Maybe I did get through to him a little.

"Katherine is a little more unusual." Xavier winks. I tense up. "She's actually been Eliminated. So she must have been voted in for reason no other than she simply wasn't liked."

I ball my hands into fists. "That's not true you bastard. The Voting was rigged because my parents were rebels!"

Helios's eyes widen. "Kaja, dear, you really must calm down. Focus on the competition."

"Julian is a good competitor." Claudius says. "An honest one and a level-headed one, according to his Training files. Now that Shimmer girl is certainly one to look out for."

Xavier grins. "Oh, without a doubt. Did you see the look in her eyes?"

The camera changes to footage of District Three. Children with pale faces and sunken-in eyes glance up at the cameras. Their arms are twig-like and their faces are hollow. Of all the non-Career districts, this is supposed to be one of the nicest. So what will those poor kids look like in Twelve?

A large guy is called up. He stands out for sure. He looks muscular. His blond hair is cut short and he looks well-trimmed. All-in-all, he actually looks rather a lot like Adonis. In other words, he looks like a Career.

"Huh." Adonis says.

The girl, Aya, is tiny. Really, really tiny. She has dirty-blond hair that's curly and frames her face. It's cut sort of short. She has tan skin, but her arms look like sticks and I'm sure I can see her ribs through her blouse.

"Oh God." I whisper. "She's just a kid."

Adonis shakes his head. "No, that's not right. Why would anyone vote in a little kid?"

I smile at him. Of course! He's getting it now. "That's exactly right, Adonis. There's no honor in it."

He nods, slowly and carefully. "So killing her wouldn't bring any real honor, would it?"

"Precisely." Lynx tells him.

I like Lynx.

Four comes up, with glittering ocean in the background and white buildings with pretty shutters and neat little window boxes. Bursts of color come from every direction. I have to say, it's beautiful. Far more beautiful than One, for sure. A tan boy name Markus is voted in. Markus has black hair and green eyes. He's frowning, but not in a scary way. Just looks kind of…mysterious.

And then…

"Goddammit!" Adonis bursts out. "Another little girl!"

And it's true. Violet, her name is, can't be more than thirteen. She surprises us by glaring at the camera. Not crying. Not whimpering. Not even sniffling. Glaring!

"Gee." Jem says. "That's a little weird."

Well, thank you Captain Obvious.

Xavier and Claudius interrupt with some more chatter about Jace, Aya, Markus and Violet. But I'm not really listening. The look in little Violet's eyes seems burned into my brain.

Next come a gangly looking guy name Jimmy and a very calculating looking girl who is a little younger than me with a long name…Katrina? Something like that. I get a closer look at Jimmy. He seems pretty nice looking, if a little shaky and awkward on his feet.

"I can't really see how a lot of these kids got voted in anyway." I say softly, more to myself than anyone else.

But to my surprise, Adonis gives a soft grunt in agreement.

A guy who is clearly stoned gets picked from Six. Well, it's no wonder. Six is the land of the stoned and the insane. In fact, the girl Anna is only proof of this. It doesn't take a genius to know that she's unhinged. She gives a loose, empty smile at the camera.

Jem whistles through his teeth.

I mostly blank out in Seven and Eight. I can't help but wonder what Rosie and Ani are doing right now. Someone must be taking care of them. Right? What'll they do while I'm gone.

What will they do if...

Snap out of it. Focus.

From Xavier's and Claudius's chatter, I gather that the girl from Seven is very young, with a mental disorder called Angelmann Syndrome. The boy is straight out of a mental hospital. Oh, great. A mental girl from Eight is also on the young side, which sets my blood boiling. The young man is eighteen and there isn't too much about him, besides that he's an orphan.

Nine brings a calm looking guy named Gavin and a skinny, tan girl by the name of Thorn. She has an angular look to her. Pointy. No better word to describe it. There is a tension between them as they shake hands.

"They know each other." I say softly.

Lynx raises her eyebrows. "Very good, Kaja."

Ten is different. Both are fourteen and have a softness to them as they shake hands. They know each other since they must be in the same grade at school.

In Eleven, a little kid named Gav goes up to the stage. He can't be more than twelve and he has a look like he's going to take off running any minute. The girl is odd. She's collected and well-built. And, while most everyone in Eleven has dark skin, she has pale skin and strange scarlet hair.

"There's no way she's from Eleven."

Adonis nods. "Yeah, you could be right, Kaja."

"Was that why she was voted in?"

He shakes his head. "Well, based on that look she's wearing, she's not."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He shrugs. "She looks too calm. Like she was expecting it."

Velvet. That's her name. She makes my skin crawl just thinking it.

Finally, polar opposites from Twelve. A tiny little wisp of a girl and a muscular boy from the eighteen year old section.

That's it. That's all.

Helios walks out of the room and straight to the bar. Well, what a help he turned out to be. Jem scratches the stubble on his chin and stands up to join him.

Lynx nods at Adonis and me. "I'm going to talk to Jem for a little. It would be the best idea for you and Adonis to talk about your alliance and plans for that for a little. We'll meet up at breakfast tomorrow and talk about strategy. Especially when it comes to training."

She leaves the door swinging behind her.

Outside, I notice that the sun has long set. Stars whir past the windows. I try to focus on just one. But they are going too quickly. Tiny silver lights flash past me. I can see the outlines of a city. Which district could it be? Above the city, a haze blocks out the stars. Inky blackness covers everything. It's almost peaceful. Almost.

Adonis leans back on the couch and crosses one leg over the over. "So Kaja, what do you think of our mentors."

I shrug. "Jem's nothing special. I like Lynx, though."

He smiles. "I figured that. You guys seem similar."

I stare out the window. Maybe I should just go to bed. It sin't like I'm actually going to be a Career anyway. Let that stone-cold Katerina or creepy Velvet take my place.

"How come there were so many little kids?" Adonis says softly.

"I don't know. But Adonis, you aren't going to, you know, kill them, are you? I mean, not unless they're trying to kill you or something." I blurt.

His eyes soften. "Look, we were always taught to be merciless. And to whatever it takes to win. But I don't think I could kill a little girl."

I feel myself smile. "So you're human then?"

He laughs. "Yeah, Kaja. I'm human. I want to win, but I'm human."

"You're different, aren't you?"

Adonis frowns, then leans in closer. "My mother was never very into the whole Games thing at all. She's scared for me. I know she didn't want this for me."

"I'm sorry."

He stares at his fingers. "So I gotta get back to her, you know? Build a better life for her and Velvet. To be honest, I don't even know how I feel about the Capital. But for me, the Games are a necessary evil. Of course, it's awful to force little kids in the Games. And even more awful for a guy with the good training I've had to kill one. My training prepared me to kill a formidable competitor. Not murder a twelve year old girl. And I don't want my family to know I did something like that. So I gotta get back to them the right way."

"Yeah. I know." I whisper.

"You don't think you can win, do you?" His eyes widen.

And I just shake my head. "As much as I'd like top pretend otherwise, I think this is it."

"You're not even going to try?"

"Of course I'm going to try. I would hate for my little sisters to find that I died without even fighting. But there's only so far I can get."

"Oh God, Kaja."

I blink. "Well, what do you care anyway? If I die, won't it just make it easer for you?"

He runs his fingers through his hair. "I can't wish this kind of death on anyone."

In spite of myself, I smile. "Yeah, Adonis. That's really, really true."

He tilts his head. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because, Adonis, I now know for a fact that you are indeed human!"

But he only gets a strange look on his face. Like all the light was suddenly drained from it.

"Unfortunately, I don't think you can say the same for a lot of these other kids. Whatever humanity they had left, it's gone now."

**A/N So that was really different from all the other chapters I wrote. I hope you noticed a change! I'm not normally into writing lots of dialogue, but this chapter was almost all just a giant conversation. Let me know if you like a lot of dialogue, or if you're more into ready descriptions and stuff like that.**

**Favorite tribute?**

**Favorite quote in this chapter?**

**And thanks for your support!**


	16. Train Rides Pt 2: Everything We Know

**A/N Welcome to Train Rides Pt.2! Please tell me your favorite character and vote on the poll so I know how the Games can play out. Thanks!**

**Julian Moretti's POV**

This has got tobe the nicest bed I've ever slept in.

Even though there's a lot going through my mind right now, I think I'm going to get a pretty good night's sleep. Which is good. Gotta build up my strength.

I think it's fair to say that I won't be getting any sleep at all once I'm in the Arena.

I fold my hands behind my head. I've never liked pillows much anyway. I guess that's a good sign because comfort isn't a top priority where I'm headed. In fact, when I realize it, something about this whole thing does seem very odd. We're going to live a life of pure luxury for exactly five days. Then, once we've just started to become accustomed to this comfort and convenience-filled lifestyle, they drop us in a barren wilderness and tell us to fight to the death.

Like, surprise kids! Nothing good lasts for long!

Especially if you're poor.

Honestly, I think this whole thing would be better if we were forced to sleep in cold metal barracks while all the training and scoring goes on. That way we'd be a little toughened up.

But they're fattening us up. Like pigs to the slaughter.

_Woah, nice metaphor there, Julian._

I've always loved metaphors. Well, they definitely didn't teach us that stuff at the Training Center. The place wasn't exactly an intellectual haven. Rather, more of a "Don't think, Just kill" philosophy.

It's a shame. Some of those kids could have grown to be quite smart.

Shimmer was one of them.

I saw her from a distance, really. Wouldn't have dared to get closer. I've always been the kind of trainee who kept to himself. A few rounds with my dagger, a quick discussion with my coach and that was that. But Shimmer would stay for hours.

Although she is about as friendly and likable as a grizzly bear with a giant thorn stuck in its paw, there's something about her that made everyone want to be around her. It was that she was obviously more powerful than everyone was like she had them in her palm. Now, that has to take a certain degree of intelligence.

Quite honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do about her.

There's no doubt in my mind that the Arena will turn her from being simply cunning and calculating to a psychotic mass murderer.

The Arena tends to have that affect on people.

So what'll I make of it? I'm not psychotic mass murderer type. And I'm also not a Caveman Career who thinks nothing and just bashes people on the head with whatever weapon he's got.

There's no other option other than The Pack, as we have referred to it since we were just kids. That's just another term for the Career alliance. That means I'll be stuck with Little Miss Crazy Psycho for a good week or so, if my estimation proves anywhere near correct.

And a week is too long.

The best I can hope for at this point is that she won't be the leader.

I turn onto my side to get more comfortable. I've got to think this thing out.

So usually in the Games I've seen, the District Two guy is the leader. I don't know if that's sexism or what, but that's just how it's always been.

Huh. Wait a minute. That guy from One didn't look half bad.

What was his name? Adonis. I don't know much about him, but he didn't look totally clueless.

If it is bad luck that landed me here, I pray it doesn't continue.

Could I be leadership material? Probably not. I'm just not an assertive guy. Sure, I have good plans for leadership and everything, but that's all in my head. My problem is actually getting my ideas "out there."

I kick back a sheet. It's getting too hot in here. I'm not too used to heat. Man, that Arena better not be really hot. Both of us from Two are used to frigid winters and mild summers. I've never experienced extreme heat.

Wonder what my parents would think if I just decided not to lead The Pack. Would they be mad? No, it's far more likely that they would just be disappointed. They know I've got a lot in me. At least, my stepfather might be. My mother is probably sitting in front of that screen sobbing her heart out.

The thought makes me practically shake with rage.

She has Alexander at home, sure, but it's not the same. He's a good kid, but he's still young. He can't take care of her. That lump of a husband she has certainly won't either.

What kind of people tear a decent mother from her son?

I take a breath into the pillow. I should't think too much about her now. I should concentrate.

Then again, what's wrong with thinking about her?

Ever since I was a kid, she'd been different than the other mothers. Kinder. Softer. When other little kids fell down and skinned their knees, their mothers would only meet their tears with impatience. Mine wiped my face and whispered to me that everything would be okay. The folds of her skirt would surround me and I'd just want to hide away in them.

I skinned my knee pretty often. Bad luck and clumsiness go hand-in-hand. The other kids I played with would stick their tongues out and call me names when they saw my mother rush to me. As a result, I learned not to cry anymore.

That's childhood in District Two for you.

I drift off to sleep remembering the smell when I put my face into her skirt.

By the time I wake up, sunlight is coming through the window.

I run my fingers through my shaggy hair and give a yawn.

And then I remember where I am.

All of yesterday's event flood back. So much happened I have to take the time to mentally sort everything out.

Yesterday was the Voting. I walked with Nazri for a long time, but then we had to go our separate ways. I got voted in because of my bad luck and my own stupidity. I had to say goodbye to Nazri and to my family. Then I went on a train. The food was good. The carpets were nice. The atmosphere was tense. I am going to the Arena. I am not ready.

Shaking my head, I swear softly to myself. I sound like a mental patient. I've heard that's a common therapy for trauma and psychosis. Replaying all the facts one knows in his or her mind.

I swing my feet over the edge of the bed. I'm wearing white silky pajamas that feel awfully strange. Not what I normally wear to bed.

For some reason, my thoughts turn to Nazri. She always wore this threadbare, short nightgown. I know because we slept together.

Not "slept together" sort of sleeping together. My stepfather was on an all-night shift at work because something went wrong somewhere. My mother went to bed early and so did Alexander. Nazri came by about ten. We sat on the falling-apart porch and talked for hours. She slipped away to change into her nightgown, then crawled into bed with me.

She came over because her father was even more drunk than usual and had already beat her brother up pretty well.

I guess that's why it didn't feel right. Yeah, I'm a seventeen year old guy. Of course I wanted it. But she was all curled up next to me with her head in my shoulder. So I just figured the thing to do was rub her back and do nothing else at all.

When I woke up, she was gone.

As I change into the same clothes I wore for yesterday's Ceremony, I wonder if I should have done it.

Man, am I gonna die like this?

Well, that's just sad.

_Don't be an idiot. She didn't want it. She was hurt and that was not the way to help her. _

Nothing I can do now, anyway.

I go over to the little bathroom in my compartment and brush my teeth. Naturally, my disgusting brain has to wonder if Shimmer's ever done "it." Something tells me she has. Actually, it hasn't been all that subtle, even. Needless to say, she won't be playing an innocent angle for the sponsors.

Shivering slightly, I walk out of the room and towards the delicious smells coming from the dining compartment.

The Votings of the other districts slip into my mind. I scrunch my eyebrows and try to remember my competitors. The boy from Four, Markus, looked fairly intimidating. I wonder if he'll join our alliance. There was a girl from Six who seemed pretty unhinged to me. What was her name? Something common. Oh right. Anne or Hannah or Anna.

But the strangest one by far was the tiny girl from Seven.

She was grinning.

If that isn't disturbing, I don't know what is.

In the dining cart, a table is full of breakfast foods. I stare at the spread, unsure of what to make of it.

"Try the caviar on bread. It's to die for."

Lucian's low drawl shocks me. I nearly jump straight out of my skin.

The Escort sits at one of the tables, stirring his coffee nonchalantly. I swear to God, this room was empty just a second ago.

He places his chin in his hands. "A bit jumpy, aren't we? That's all right. Shows you've got good reflexes."

Blinking, I eye the spread again. Not wanting to make a fool of myself, I grab a slice of bread. There's a bowl of some unfamiliar, dark-colored things that I guess to be caviar. I spread some on the bread. Honestly, it looks revolting.

"Fish eggs." Lucian says.

"Huh?"

He points to my plate. "It's just fish eggs, Julian."

I sit down gingerly and take a tiny bite. The caviar is incurably salty. An odd taste on the tough, chewy bread roll. I swish the fish eggs in my mouth. They're like little beads of salt. Not bad. But weird just the same. Oddly, I find myself craving my bland porridge breakfast.

Lucian scratches his chin. A short blond gotee has begun on it. "You seem intelligent. Large and all-right looking. You'll do fine with the sponsors."

I almost snort up the caviar. There's no way I trust this guy's opinion. Since when do Escorts help at all? "Uh, where are my mentors?"

He waves his hand. "Never mind them. Tara's decent, if a little young. But Xerxes is utterly useless."

"Useless?"

Lucian leans in closer. "Won the Games fourteen years ago. One of the quickest Games in history. He didn't waste any time strategizing. Just killed everyone in sight."

"Even the rest of the Careers?"

His eyes widen. "He kept them long enough for them to get rid of the rest of the competition. Then he killed 'em all in one sitting. In broad daylight, too!"

I shake my head. "Not my strategy."

Lucian shrugs. I notice one of his fingers has a giant green ring on it. "He's not the most intelligent we've ever had. I dread the years he mentors. Just sits there like a rock."

Just then, the door swings open.

A woman with inky black hair tied in a painful looking ponytail walks out. Her appearance is surprising. The looks can be pretty varied in Two. Unlike Eleven or Ten or Nine, our citizens look different from each other. Dark hair and brown eyes are the norm though, so she shouldn't be so surprising. But she is.

First of all, there's no way hair can naturally be that dark. Her pale skin is a sharp contrast. In fact, she has some of the palest skin I've ever seen. And she's so skinny and tiny, it looks like the wind could pick her peak out from under her sleeves. Must have gotten them done in the Capital.

Plus, she can't be more than twenty. An estimation says she's 5'3. And I'm guessing she weighs about 110, which is ridiculous. How could she possibly have been let in the Games, let alone won?

She grabs a yellowish, round fruit from the table and takes a huge bite out of it. Juice spills onto her chin. She plunks down next to us.

"Hi." She says, looking me up and down. "Where's the girl?"

I shrug. "Sleeping in. Well, I normally get up pretty early."

"Lucian here does too." She jabs a finger in his direction. "I like mornings." She leans in near me. "Between you and me, Julian, waking up early is a good sign. Means there's less chance of you getting killed in you sleep." Tara laughs a raspy, harsh laugh.

Okay, so maybe I misjudged her slightly.

Tara turns the fruit around in her hand. "How'd you sleep?"

"Uh, as well as a guy headed to a fight to the death could."

She laughs again. "Strange." Tara shakes her head, smiling.

"What, me headed to a fight to the death? Yeah, now that you mention it, it is strange. The whole thing is strange." I stare down at my plate. "Caviar is strange too."

"I like you." Tara says seriously. "You're odd."

"Odd?"

"Yeah. You talk like a normal person. Not begin me to talk about weapons or whatever it is I'm supposed to do. Hell, when I walked in you were talking to your Escort! Who does that? Godammit, I have a feeling you're gonna be interesting."

"I figure there'll be time to talk weapons." I say.

Once again, the door swings open.

"Ah." Lucian says. "We've got company,"

**Shimmer Parker's POV**

I breeze into the room.

Three people are sitting at a table.

Julian picks at a piece of bread with some odd looking ball-shaped stuff on it. Next to him, Lucian smiles at me while sipping a cup of coffee. Creep. A woman who I'm guessing is my mentor is finishing up a piece of fruit.

"I don't think we've met." I say to her, slightly cooly.

"No, guess not." She says and stands up, looking reluctant. Which pisses me off a little.

I look her over. I could take her down in a fight any day. In fact, I'm pretty sure I could've taken her down when I nine. She's tiny, almost a head shorter than me. And skin and bones too.

"I'm Shimmer." I stick out my hand for her to take.

"I know." She says. She doesn't take my hand.

In order to resist the urge to punch her right in the face, I go to the breakfast spread out for us and spread some jam on my bread. The stuff is sickly pink. I've only had jam a few lucky times in my life, but I can never remember it being this vibrant. And now that I look around, it seems all the food is strangely vibrant.

The table shines. It's so clean, I bet I could see my reflection in the wood. Bright golden brown. How much effort goes into keeping this place clean and bright?

District Two is gray. Gray everywhere.

Briefly, I wonder how much my family would enjoy food like this. Brion, I know for sure, would attack it. He always did eat more than he was worth. A stupid carpenter. Who even has use for those anymore? Ridiculous.

But before I can stop it, a memory creeps up.

It's the two of us at the table. I'm maybe six, and he's eight. We're making cinnamon bread together. We're a laughing, gooey, sticky mess. He pulls some dough out of my hair and I throw a dough ball at him, giggling. It becomes an all out war. He's better, as he's just started Training and has been working on his aim. But I sneak up from behind and dump some cinnamon down his shirt.

Then, Mom walks in.

Both of us freeze.

"Who did this? This is such a waste of food. Where am I gonna get this stuff again? We just don't have that kind of money, kids."

I lock eyes with Brion. I started it. He knows that. I've always been a tattletale on him. Boy, does he get mad when I do that. And now he's going to get back at me.

"I started, Mom." He says softly. He stares at his big feet. Everything about Brion always has been big. He made an excellent wrestler. But he always was gentle. Even then., his soft brown eyes managed to look both shy and ashamed. Like a puppy dog. That's just what he looked like.

I stare at him in disbelief.

Brion sniffs. "I threw some dough at her and it was wrong and bad. But we can clean it up. We'll use what we can. It'll be okay."

He was reaching out to me. He was saving me. I should have told the truth. Or at least just kept quiet.

But I couldn't even do that.

"Mommy, he threw dough at me!" I wail. "And the bread is all ruined!"

She extends her arm. "Oh, Shimmer. Baby, it'll be fine."

"I just wanted some cinnamon bread!" I cry.

Tears fall from my face and I'm surprised at their presence. I'm lying. I'm being a bad girl. I'm not actually that sad. In fact, the dough battle was even more fun than boring old baking.

She pats my head. "Brion, you clean this up. This better not happen again. Be nicer to your sister. She's younger than you."

I hide my face in her skirt.

I can still see his face, though. He just looks at me with a look of pure hatred.

That was when it all began. That was when I knew that there were ways of achieving one's goal that weren't always within the limits of "playing fair." But my goal was achieved. No clean up duty. The only difference now is in the goal.

Even so young, I already knew how to play people like puppets.

Squinting slightly, I force the memory out of my head. I can't get Brion's face, full of disappointment in the girl he reached out to only moments ago. How sad those great big puppy eyes looked. That way he didn't even object. Just stood there and took it all.

Finally, it leaves.

And I can concentrate on this amazing fruit spread.

I can't wait to get to the Capital. If the buildings are anywhere near as bright as the food, I'm going to be in heaven.

I slide into the booth at the table, next to Julian. If I have enough time, I bet I could seduce him. Sounds like a strange objective, but I have a strategy. Get every guy in the Career alliance wrapped around my finger. They'll do my bidding and would never lay a hand on me.

Then I slit their throats.

I sigh softly to myself.

The woman clears her throat. "Well, it looks like Xerxes doesn't want to show up anytime soon. So I better get the ball rolling."

I already know what she's going to going to ask. "I'm wicked with spears. I'm fast, agile and clever. I have looks on my side. I've been training for as long as I can remember. You won't be let down." I smile with pride to myself. That was a decent summary.

But the woman frowns. "I don't really know what the hell that was, Glimmer."

"It's _Shimmer." _I say, my voice dripping with hot anger.

"And I'm Tara." She says sunnily, just to piss me off even more.

I hate this Tara girl beyond words right now.

"Anyway," She chirps sarcastically, "I was just going to ask if either of you know anything about plants."

Juilan and I stare blankly at her. Plants? Why are we talking about plants?

Tara nods in a disappointed way. "Of course. You kids were probably taught not to give a shit about plants. They're just little leafy things, right? Wrong, children."

"Uh…" Is all Julian says.

"Now." Tara says primly. "Do either of you know anything about how to climb trees?"

"Climb trees?!" I exclaim. "Why would we need to know that?"

"Or cooking? Am I supposed to assume neither of you knows anything about cooking either?"

Julian and I don't even try to answer that one.

"Well." Tara says. "Well." She shakes her head. "It looks like you two little guys are going to have to be re-schooled. Don't worry, this won't fuck up your chances of winning or anything. Just pay attention. That means you, little miss smart ass Glitter."

"It's Shimmer!"

Julian blinks a few more times, frozen like an idiot. "Uh, Tara? Do you have a cursing problem?"

Tara straightens. "Why yes, actually. I do. thank you for pointing that out, Julian. Was it noticeable?"

He frowns, then gives up. "All right, what's so great about trees and cooking?"

She suddenly turns dead-serious looking. "Trees and cooking, my dear friends, have the power to both save and take away lives."

A pause.

Then, I burst out laughing.

I chuckle to myself until it finally dawns on me that no one else is laughing. Even Lucian frowns at me.

"Shimmer, do you know how I won my Games?" Tara asks.

"Sorry, no." I say flatly.

"I poisoned the Careers' food. All of it. A half cup of hemlock was all it took."

"Hemlock?" Julian sounds out the name.

"A flower. Little white tufts, that's how you can see it. It's very poisonous."

That explains a lot. Obviously she wouldn't have won by brute force. Sure, I respect her at least a little for winning. That's no easy feat. But I bet she didn't give the viewers what they were looking for. No bloodshed or fantastic final battle. It must have been quite disappointing. Well, I won't have that problem.

"Nightshade, too. That can be used for or against you."

"And what's that look like?" Julian asks.

"Berries. They have white flowers with yellow centers. The berries are in bright colors. Mostly vibrant blue. They're speckled. That's how you know 'em."

"Ah." He nods thoughtfully. I can't believe he's buying what Tara is telling him! Okay, yes she is a Victor. But this seems pretty stupid to me. And I also don't appreciate her making me look like a fool. In front of a Capital citizen, no less. Lucian could very well be my key to getting sponsors.

"Stop at the cooking station while in Training." She tells us.

I can't believe this woman. "Tara, um, what would the other Careers think? I mean, while they swing around deadly weapons, we'll be stirring soup."

She smiles. "Take my word for it. Learn some basic cooking. If sponsors don't always come for you or if all the food is frozen, you'll need food somehow.

"Huh." Is all Julian says.

More and more, having him in my alliance at all seems like a bad idea. But he is a Career. I've seen him train on a few occasions, and he's pretty good with a dagger. No competition to me, of course. That's a good thing. But he's an idiot. At least, I think so. Why would he even be listening to this stuff? Clearly this Tara lady is insane.

I would like very much to see the other mentor.

"When you train," Tara starts, "Do some ropes course. Learn how to climb and learn it well. It's one of the best ways to escape from your enemy, especially if it's another Career. Of course, if your enemy happens to be from Eleven or Seven, you're as good as dead."

"Not like we'd have any enemies from those districts." Julians says this, and it's been right on my mind.

"Oh, you would be surprised." Lucian shakes his finger at us.

"This year is different." Tara says.

"That's true." Lucian responds. "Forget everything you know for these Games. Everything has been twisted."

**A/N Now that we're past Reapings, chapters will be shorter. Of course, I'd never go under 4,000 words because that would mean skimping on details. But they'll be quicker and easier reads, just to keep suspense up. PM me or leave it in your review if this concerns you or if you feel like your character won't be done proper justice. It's important to me!**

**Now go vote on that poll!**


	17. Arrival

**A/N The first POV in this will be on the train. Aya's will be partly about the arrival. Make sure to vote on the poll as a new one is coming up once the Bloodbath comes. **

**Jace Ignis's POV**

All that's left now is the dull sound of the train's wheels.

I stir my cup listlessly, even though breakfast ended hours ago. I just want to look like I'm doing something.

I think that is both to fool others and to fool my own mind. I have to do anything possible to get it off of her.

Her. Her beautiful golden hair and shining eyes.

Did she cry? Maybe. Did she think about me all the time? Likely. Did she feel guilty for not coming at all to say goodbye? I hope so.

I hope she felt so guilty that she still hasn't stopped crying. I hope Clarisse just curled in a ball and sobbed for hours knowing what a horrible thing she'd gone and done. Not saying goodbye to someone she'd known her whole life. Not even bothering to send along a message if she really was too distressed or something.

Too distressed? Yeah right.

If she really was, she would have told someone to tell me the message for her. Clarisse always was one to find any means possible of doing whatever it as she wanted.

So if she did want to say goodbye, she would've somehow.

Damn her.

And dmm this all.

I'm sure we could have been together.

I could have finally built up the courage to ask her out. Honestly, I would have. Then she would smile and say of course. Sure, maybe she didn't know me _that well_, but I bet she'd jump at the opportunity to. Anyone at the orphanage could see I was a good guy.

Then we'd go on a date. To where, I don't know. There aren't many places for that kind of thing in Three. Maybe to the little square of grass that passes for a park. Oh…I know! After all, I have thought of this before.

There is this amazing high rise. I go there so often, I'm sure everyone thinks I live there. But if I'm willing to walk up all these stairs, I can reach the top. It;s glass encased and I can see the whole district.

It's fantastic.

I know she would love it.

We would be a couple. The kind that someone can never mention one of us without saying the name of the other.

We're both around the age. Eighteen. That's time to find the one you'll marry.

So naturally, we would choose each other.

Have a family. I would work a good job, as a result of my intelligence. She would have a good one, too. Clarisse is so smart. Children almost as pretty as her. We could live in that high rise! She would take the children up every day to see the district. And they, unlike the two of us, would have a family.

It's all so perfect.

But it can never be.

Because of this.

Aya sits across from me. She's been staring out the window for hours now. It's strange how lost in her thoughts that girl gets. For such a tiny thing who looks even younger than twelve, she has such an old look in her eyes.

A sad look. One of the saddest I've ever seen.

Of course anyone, let alone a twelve year old, would be deeply saddened by the prospect of their own eminent death.

But this is a different kind of sadness. It's like a knowing kind of sadness. I can't describe it quite right, but it's like she is wise. The way her eyes look, it looks as though she understands. Yes, that's it. It's an understanding kind of sadness. She knows and understands what will happen to her. And she is not scared. Just sad.

"We should be arriving there soon." I say it, just to make conversation. And to get my mind of Clarisse.

"Yes." She says simply. "I guess we will be."

Aya resumes to staring out the window.

I clear my throat. "Do you have a training strategy?"

She turns her head to face me with a surprised look. "Why would you want to know that?"

"Uh, sorry. Sorry, maybe that's not the right thing to ask at all, is it?"

Aya shakes her head, shorty curly hair falling in her eyes. "No, it's all right. Really, it is. I was just taken aback by the question because I don't really have a training strategy. I never saw the point in it. I know how this will play out. You know how this will play out. Let's not pretend otherwise."

I'm literally at a loss for words.

"You sound a lot older when you talk." I finally say.

"I'm older than I look. I have a disease which makes me smaller than other fourteen year old girls."

"You're fourteen?! I thought you were somehow even younger than twelve!" I blurt out.

"Well, cystic fibrosis makes you a little shorter than most others. Among…other things."

"Cys-what?"

She frowns like she's given this speech a hundred times over. "Cystic fibrosis. I have a bunch of mucus in my lungs."

"Oh." Is all I say to that one.

I can hear the lull of the train's sound again. Aya twirls a string of blondish hair on her finger. Her brown eyes reflect what's outside the glass of the window. Nothing but empty fields. It's sort of strange how the Capital seems to be located in the middle of nothing at all. District One isn't far off at all, but I still can't see it.

My thoughts shift to the Career pack this year.

The two from One don't look any different than usual. The girl is a little smaller and a little scrawnier than usual, though. The boy is gigantic compared to her.

The oar from Two look like classic Careers. Muscular guy and a creepy-looking girl. She looks like Clarisse. But like all the good points about Clarisse just got all twisted.

Twisted Clarisse. Maybe that's what I'll call her.

A Career. That's what I'm going to do. That's the surest way to survive. At least, a couple of days anyway.

Of course, I'm going to get the hell out of there before all that "everyone turning psycho on each other" shit that always seems to happen.

Now for that Gally. So far, he hasn't made much impression on me. Sure, he had dinner with us yesterday and breakfast this morning. But he hasn't been very helpful at all, actually. He just sits there staring at the ground. I know he won pretty recently, so maybe he's still in shock.

Is that really what happens if you win?

It doesn't seem so nice at all.

He's pale, shaky and just another District Three weakling. How the hell did he win anyway? That's all I'd like to know.

Maybe once I get into the Career pack they'll give me some tips for survival.

Except I am just a bit scared because I've never learned how to deal with a real Career before. They just seem so intense. Well, all I have to do is show them that I'm just as intense. I am going to try to get home.

And win.

And if I win…Clarisse is going to have to want me!

A perfect plan for a perfect girl.

The Careers will let me in. I know they will. I'm wicked with my knife. It will take some getting used to a new blade, but it shouldn't be a problem. I bet they will all be blown away. After all, it isn't every year they see a boy from Three who can actually hold a weapon. I break just about all District Three stereotypes.

Besides intelligence.

Frankly, that Career pack could use a guy with a head on his shoulders.

Not saying I could lead it. I don't have the guts for that one.

Man, Clarisse sure would be blown away if I did though, wouldn't she?

"Are you okay?"

Aya stares at me with her eyebrows lifted. She looks me up and down like I'm crazy or something.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I grumble.

She shrugs and scoots back in her seat. "Oookay."

"Why would you ask?" My voice sounds surprisingly harsh.

She bites her lip and gets a funny look in her eyes. It's so funny I almost laugh. But I haven't laughed in a really, really long time. Even though I'm surprised that the girl has some humor in her, being half dead already and all. But I still can't laugh. I guess when you don't something for a long enough time you just kind of forget how to even do it at all.

"You were smiling, sort of. Like, you actually looked insane for a minute there." Aya says matter-of-factly.

I can feel blood rushing to my face. I bet I'm turning bright red.

"Oh." I whisper. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you in love?"

"What?! What the hell?"

She looks unfazed. "You're in love. And you were just thinking about this girl."

I take a deep breath. This kid is really trying my patience. "Yes, Aya. Okay? I'm in love."

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

She swallows hard. "I mean, I'm sorry you have to go through this. And I'm sorry she has to see this. It must be hard."

"Don't you have someone at home for you?"

Aya nods. "Yeah, my mom and my brother. And my, er, and my boyfriend."

"You have a boyfriend?"

She snorts. "Oh, I'm surprised you couldn't tell. In case you didn't know, the boys in Three have a thing for short, skinny, ugly and mucus-y dying girls. In fact, they practically fling themselves at me."

I really can't hold back a chuckle at that one. I don't even try.

"You, uh, you certainly have an odd way of coping with all of this?"

She looks surprised. "Yeah? So do you. Being able to laugh at my own nightmare suits me just fine. There aren't going to be any smiles here, though. So that really scares me. I don't know, it;s just the worst possible way to die, isn't it? Just the worst."

"But if you win-"

"If you win, you're dead inside anyway." She snaps, cutting me off.

"No." I shake my head. "No, when I win I'm getting Clarisse. I am going to get her. And we're going to live together. And everything will be fine. No, more than fine. Everything is going to be perfect."

Her eyes widen with a look that makes me feel real anger inside. It's pity.

"Jace." She says.

"What?!"

"There are no happy endings in the Game."

**Aya Brow's POV**

This is all my fault.

Why did I have to do something so stupid? Why didn't I look before I leapt? Normally I think things through. That was just so unlike me.

Now, of course, it seems the worst thing anyone could ever do.

Vote themselves in.

What kind of a coward does that?

I should be facing death strongly. I should be lying on my bed, with Mom fixing me homed soup like this is just a bad cold or something. I should be getting flowers from everyone and admiring them, even though most of them are just scrawny weeds. I wonder if there will be real flowers in the Capital. Or the Arena.

Then, I should die in my own bed. Peacefully. In my sleep or something.

Or maybe I'll finally hack up a lung.

Well, that would be better than this.

I clench my fists on the table.

This is all a mistake. The hugest mistake I've ever made. Now that I think about that, it probably will be the last mistake I ever make.

How much longer do I have left?

We arrive this evening. Then there's the Chariot Parade. Tomorrow we'l begin Training. Training lasts for three days. Then there are the Private Sessions. The day after that is the Interview part, and then in the morning is the Bloodbath.

So I have a week.

Because I'm going to die in the Bloodbath. Where else? It is useless to pretend otherwise. I can't run because I'll have to stop and have a coughing fit after just a few feet. I can't even pick up a weapon because my arms are so weak. I'll be easy to bring down as I'm likely one of the smallest, if not the smallest, there.

I'm so busy wrapped up in my own morbid thoughts that I don't even realize that Gally just entered the room.

"Hello Aya." He says softly. "Jace."

We both nod at him, but I can tell that even Jace is lost in his own mind right now.

The escort, Taffy Flavian, fixes the little pink hat on her head. "You should be able to make a few buildings in just a short while." She smiles down at me. "And you're in for a surprise! The clothes will be very different from the ones you see at home. In fact, my outfit right now would be viewed as quite conservative." She giggles.

I look at what she's wearing.

Bright pink jacket with sequin trimming. Black skirt with the same trimming. Hot pink heels that are so high it's a wonder she isn't gripping the table to steady herself. And a hot pink hat held onto her head with bobby pins. A long feather sticks out of it.

I can't help but shudder a little.

The two of them sit at the table with Jace and me. Taffy chooses to sit next to me, and I'm worried her mane of obviously dyed platinum blond hair will end in my face.

"So, has Gally told you what your plan will be?" Taffy chirps.

We shake our heads. Gally hasn't done much of anything at all, really.

She sighs, exasperated. She's clearly done this with Gally before and is frequently annoyed at his shell-shocked state.

"Well, don't get killed then, how about that?" Taffy sighs again.

Gally shifts his eyes. "Don't trust anyone." He says softly.

Jace folds his arms. "Don't get killed and don't trust anyone. Great advice there."

"So, Taffy? That's an unusual name." I say quickly, trying to turn this conversation away from Jace's sarcasm.

"Oh? I didn't think it was. My father has a fondness for sweets." She says matter-of-factly.

"So he named you Taffy?" I resist the urge to snort.

"Why yes, he did. And I'm sure you'll encounter many names you find odd once we reach our destination. I found your people's names quite unusual when I first became an escort too."

"Aya? How can Aya be odd?"

Taffy shakes her head. "No one would have such a simple name."

I shrug. "Most girls are named Dayta or Techa."

She purses her lips like she just bit into a lemon.

"I was named after Galileo." Says Gally.

"Who?" Taffy asks.

To be honest, I've never heard of Galileo either. I wish I could have gone to school more. I can't count how many morning I woke up feeling as though someone was sitting on my chest. Then I had to watch crowds of kids bustling through the street, comparing homework and complaining about teachers. And of course, if I went to school more often, I would have seen Matt more. We could compare homework and complain about teachers together.

Jace sits up. "Galileo was a great scientist. He paved the way for modern science as we know it."

Huh. Muscular and smart. Maybe District Three has a shot at winning this year because of Jace.

That's when I see it.

My first impression is that it is enormous.

Buildings scrape the sky, just like in Three. But there are much, much taller. I have to squint my eyes against all the bright colors. In Three, all the buildings were white. Here, there's not a drop of white anywhere.

Everything is in bright neon or pastel colors. Buildings the same colors as the sky. Hovercrafts painted metallic gold. A gigantic dam in front of a lake that is a mural of pastel shades.

As the train moves forward, I can see the streets below the tracks. Every cobblestone is a different color. They form a rainbow right beneath the citizen's feet. Like shards of broken glass, only rounded. Shop windows display an array of items unlike I've ever seen. Pressing my face to the glass, I can spot a bakery with cakes inside. Each one has elaborate flowers and sculptures made of icing.

The entire city look like a candy shop.

Yellow clothing as eye-watering bright as lemon drops. There are doors on the buildings that are the same red as a cherry sucker. Towers with puffs of white that look like whipped cream. Frosted panes of glass that turn the light shining through them a rainbow of candy colors.

It's like heaven!

How misleading. Nice trick there, eh? It's like dying, and then waking up in paradise. You look around you, breathing in all those beautiful sights.

Then maybe you think to yourself _Well, of course a part of this is both scary and sad. But this place is so beautiful. And I'm at peace, so what's not to love?_

When all of a sudden, just as you're about to take a bite out of a wonderful entire roasted turkey laid out just for you, the devil himself walk out.

"Surprise!" He shouts.

And it all vanishes.

I see what they're doing here.

They can't fool me. I've been standing at death's door my whole life. I know it when I see it, even if it is covered in food and bright colors.

The train lurches to a stop. I bump on the table a little and a cough escapes from my ribs. Actually, it's really more of a hack. Taffy looks at me oddly, but then thinks better of asking me any question and turns to look away. Mainly at the mob with flashing lights that has just gathered outside the train's door.

I peek around her head to get a look.

Those flashing lights are cameras! Not like the clothing is any less vibrant or loud.

"Now, there are going to be a lot of reporters out there. Answer all the questions you can. There's no use playing the 'above it all' angle seeing as how you're from Three. Just be cordial."

I don't even have a chance to ask her what the word "cordial" means before the door is thrust open.

Taffy pushes me outside and instantly I'm blinded by the sunlight and the flash of all the cameras.

Questions come at me from every which way.

"Aya, how was your ride?"

"Aya, what can you tell us about your mentor?"

"Hey, Aya! What was your reaction to being chosen?"

I pause. That last one sticks in my head. I look up to the reporter who asked it. It's a man with a funny looking gray goatee. He wears a top hat. I've never seen anyone wearing a top hat before. His whole outfit is bright green. In spite of my fear, I almost let out a giggle. How can such a silly looking man ever participate in the horror that is the Games?

Taffy, behind me, gives me a little nod of approval. She wants em to answer the question.

"Um, well I suppose it was inevitable." I say into the man's microphone.

Everyone around us begins jotting frequent notes in their pads. Where does the writing go? Surely, it must spread quickly. People here have nothing to do with their time. And so, they're forced to entertain themselves with idle activities such as pretending to care what something a little girl from Three said.

"If your family were here, what would you want to say to them?"

I look at this reporter. It's a woman in deep purple.

Shuffling my feet slightly, I watch the now limp looking white skirt swish half heartedly around my legs.

"I'd want them to know I'm okay." The words are soft. "That I miss them, but it's going to be okay. I know what I have to do. I'm going to put up whatever fight I can for them, even though it might not be much. I would say thank you for everything. Everyday I thank the stars that I have them. They're my everything."

I smile a little. That wasn't so hard.

All the reporters look surprised and there's a slight pause before any of them start writing again.

Taffy walks over and whispers in my ear. "That was very nice, Aya."

And then, I feel a burr in my lungs when I take a breath. Instantly, I know this is bad news.

A cough explodes out of my mouth.

I cover it with my hand, when two more come out. They come from way down inside. I hate this. I hate all of it.

Since I can remember, my coughs have sounded nothing like everyone else's. Everyone just has these little throat coughs. Mine come from way deep down in my chest.

After three or so more, I have to double over.

Hate this. Hate this.

Taffy puts her hand on my back, but obviously she has no idea what to do. Cameras behind us start rolling like crazy, with everyone trying to get a view of the little girl threatening to fall over from the strength of her own coughs.

_Come on, Aya. Don't let them see you like this._

I lift up my hand. Try to single to Taffy to get the cameras to stop. Anything. No one should see this. But all that happens is another explosion of coughing. My eyes water like crazy and start to tear up. Faces around me all become blurs. A wave of sickly looking bright colors. Too bright. Too bright.

I have to get out.

Finally, Gally grabs my arm in his shaky, ice cold one. He pulls me away from the cameras, with me shaking from the inside out and still letting out rattling coughs.

Everything feels so hot.

Why is it so hot?

That's when I know. That's when I know for sure.

This isn't one of those ordinary coughing fits. Oh, no. I can already see tiny black spots swimming into my vision. This is bad. Really, really bad. And now, it's going to be all over the screens. Everyone will see me like this. Weak as can be. Vulnerable.

Dying.

I finally straighten on shaky knees. Of course, my breathing is still shallow but at least the coughing is gone now.

No denying it now. I don't have much time left. Feels odd, just thinking that. Like it's always been such a far off thing. But now it's here, right now.

I should feel scared. I should feel a deep black sadness inside me. Maybe I should be crying. Or just curled up on the ground, moaning over my pain and illness and everything else. That would be acceptable. I'm sure no one would make any move against it.

I don't want to go yet. Oh, that sounds so like I'm a little kid. But maybe I am. I'm not ready yet. I want to stay.

I want to stay so, so badly.

Closing my eyes around all the flashing lights, I wish for one more kiss with Matt.

Just one more!

Please, don't take me now. There's so much I still haven't done! So many sunsets I still haven't seen. So many stars I haven't yet counted. Matt and I used to always say that one day we would get out of Three. One day we would to a place without any light pollution and stare up at all those constellations. Strange, to think that they'll all still be there. Even if I'm not there to see them.

Maybe I should feel anger.

Is that how I should be? Should I rant at the whole world? I could take it out on the world around me. I could lash out. Stomp around. Kick and punch things and scream until my voice is raw. If I had the energy, maybe I would. Let all the feelings of hate well up inside me because this really is a cruel, cruel world. Just build it all up in me until it comes rushing out.

But I don't.

Instead, I feel absolutely nothing at all.

**A/N I hope that was a bit of a tearjerker for all. Feedback in any form is always appreciated and I'm so grateful to those who take the time to review every single chapter! That's amazing. Aya would be proud. Hopefully, Jace's brain has started to clear up. The boy's a little too obsessed, isn't he? Let's see how far these two will go!**


	18. Chariot Parade

**A/N This is the Chariot Parade chapter. That means that Markus's section will be more about preparation, while Violet's will be all about the Parade and what happens after it. Make sure to let me know what you think about the costumes. They aren't easy to some up with! Next thing you know, we'll be in Training. And we all know what comes after that!**

**Markus Wade's POV**

My first impression of the place is that I'm undeniably glad that there isn't any dirt on my shoes.

Despite that, I immediately feel awfully out of place in my simple fisherman's kid's clothes. Which means, simple brown pants and worn out shoes. Something tells me, this isn't really the place for guys dressed like I am right now.

Violet and I are being led down an immaculate white hallway. It's completely lined in white tile.

The buildings we saw before this one were all an explosion of color. I hated it. The designs were garish and slightly vulgar. I couldn't help wrinkling my nose when I saw all the tacky clothes that seemed like the colors out of a sick candy shop or something.

There's some fairy tale like that.

Now, I know kids don't really get told fairy tales much anymore. But when I was little, my mother's head was full of them. She said she'd learned them from her mother, who in turn had learned it from her mother and so on and so forth. According to her, the Apocalypse that got us all here didn't happen quite so long as people say it did.

Anyway, before the Apocalypse, fairy tales were everywhere. They were a staple of childhood.

My favorite was the story of Hansel and Gretel.

In it, there's these two kids. I don't think we know how old they are, but I when I was real little I pictured Hansel being maybe twelve, with Gretel around eight or so. So the two of them are in the woods collecting firewood or something ridiculous they used to do back in ancient times. And then they get lost. They find this house completely made out of candy. Every little kid's dream, right?

Wrong.

The lady who lives in the house gives them good food to eat and puts them in soft, pretty beds. But when Gretel wakes up, she finds that Hansel is gone.

Turns out, the psycho lady locked him up to get him fattened. And then she was going to eat him.

You know, now that I think about it, there are a lot of elements to that story that don't seem very well suited for children at all.

I shudder. It's like I'm in that candy house right now.

When we first got out of the train and inside, the building was all vibrant colors. There was a chandelier on the ceiling, made of pink crystals. I was quite impressed with myself for even knowing the word "chandelier," having never seen one in my life.

But then we went down an elevator and things got very different very fast.

And now we're here in what I assume to be an area underground.

Next to me, Violet stares at the various doors going off of the stark hallway with her wide, dark hair. Black wavy hair bounces on her shoulders. She could be my little sister. We look that alike. A lot of kids in Four do. She's a Bayou kid, though. It isn't hard to tell at all. Actually, it's like she's speaking an entirely different language.

Throughout the trip here, Violet's done nothing but surprise me.

From what I hear, I think she's thirteen. But yet, she hasn't cried a single tear. Not one. She actually seems pretty engaged and eager to hear whatever plans our mentor has to offer. I can't decide if she's brave or mental.

We come to a room marked 4F.

Aquarius, the mentor taps her shoulder. "This is you, Violet."

She nods solemnly. Then, without a hesitant look at all, she wings open the door and disappears inside.

Aqaurius scratches the stubble on his chin. "Strange kid, eh Markus?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess she is."

The escort, Blaise, laughs. "She sounds so funny when she talks! I bet the audience will be so amused when they hear her interview. Bayou-speak, I believe it's called."

"Girl's got the Bayou attitude too, if I ever saw it." Aquarius says gruffly, shaking his head.

He points me to a room directly across from Violet's.

"That's where you'll get all suited up."

"Uh-huh." I mumble. The door is marked 4F. I wonder if there are other tributes getting ready in this same hall. If there are, I haven't seen them. I want to, though. Not necessarily to size up the competition or whatever. I'm not a Career. No Career alliance for me, thanks. District Four may be one of the more favored districts, but the Training Center construction still hasn't finished. We're not quite Careers yet. Sure, many are in favor of that Center being built. But the Bayou people aren't and neither is my family.

"Oh, and Markus?"

I turn to Aqaurius. "Yeah?"

He smiles a little. "I know it seems stupid, getting dressed up in a costume and parading everywhere and all that."

"To be honest, I haven't given it much thought, sir."

Aquarius nods. "Good. It'll be over before you know it. And it's not so bad….considering."

I open the door and walk into the room before he can say anymore.

I know my fate. I don't want to spend anymore time thinking about it.

Once I'm in the gray, metal room, a voice booms out through some invisible speakers.

_Welcome, Tribute. This area is specially designed for preparation for the Chariot Ceremony. _

_Please discard your clothes accordingly and put on the robe you see. Your prep team and stylist should be with you in a moment._

The voice clicks off.

I pull off my clothes that I've been wearing for a little too long now and are sticky with sweat. The clean robe actually feels nice. If it were a robe, really. It's actually more of a paper dress than anything else. It hardly covers anything. Well, at least it's clean. Besides, this gray is still better than the bombardment of garish colors I was previously assaulted with.

The paper beneath me makes a crinkling sound. I'm sitting on a cot, of sorts. It's high above the floor and there are some buttons on the side panel. I'm guessing I can be made to recline or sit up as much as my prep team wants. Behind the thing I'm sitting on, there's a metal basin with a shower head.

The thought if people dressing me in some outlandish costume makes me frown even deeper.

All around me on shelves are colored bottles. I stare at the labels. Conditioner. Shampoo. Volume-Revitalizer. Whatever the hell that is. The bottles form a stained glass window on their shelves. Will all that really go into the small mop of hair on my head?

Shuffling, the paper under my folds. How irritating.

Slowly, my thoughts go back to Four. Home. And Perch.

I don't want Perch back in my thoughts. It wasn't my fault. I know what I did and I saw what I saw. One girl who was mistaken can't change anything.

Besides, I should be thinking about my family.

What's Jacob doing now? Probably sitting on the small beach in front of the cottage, staring out at the gray ocean. Throwing pebbles and shells in it and trying to look like he isn't angry at the whole world. I've seen him do that sometimes. No doubt, he's doing that now.

Dad wouldn't have today off, but maybe they'd let him. Well, probably not. So he's probably fixing a net or reeling in his catch. Getting ready for the hours to come. Casey might be with him, tugging on his sleeve and telling him that it's about time to go home.

Back at the cottage, I can picture June helping Mom with dinner like she always does. She just loves helping. She might be snapping beans or setting the table, cooing at Mari who plays on the floor, giggling. Blissfully unaware. Kai would be up in his room, whining for Mom. Having no idea where the frowny, grim looking big brother went off to.

The door opens and I'm yanked away from my thoughts of our little house by the sea.

A woman with hair composed of countless tiny braids, all dyed electric blue, leans on the door handle staring at me. Her nails are lie cat's claws and look longer than the hands themselves. They too, are dyed electric blue.

Oh man. Am I going to have those nails on my head?

Behind her, a few others slip in. They wear white coats, like the scientists in Three or Five. Funny, how seriously they take this. One of them has hair that I can tell is made to look like fire. The other, another woman, is completely covered in tattooed vines. The third is a man with inky black hair, streaked with blue lines.

He clears his throat. "My name is Silvio. This is Vidia." He points to the vine-covered lady. "And this is Aris." The man with the fire-head nods at me.

"I'm Clelia." The woman with the blue claw nails says. "I'm your head stylist. Your prep team will get you all cleaned up. Then I'll show you your costume."

Whew. So for now, it looks like those claws won't be impaling my skull.

I have to admit, I don't mind all the preparation. It gets my mind off everything, anyway. While Vidia does some kind of deep massage to get that shampoo in, I feel the image of Perch's terrified face right before he went under slowly vanish from my mind. It's like with every rub, those wide green eyes fade a little.

Much better.

I have other things that need to take up the space in my brain. More important things.

Like how I'm going to actually survive this thing.

Aris and Silvio begin going over me with razors. While it isn't nearly as painful as it sounds, it leaves me feeling quote vulnerable afterword. I feel raw and stinging. And like a plucked chicken. It's a terrible feeling and I feel my ears go hot. I'd give anything for some halfway decent clothes right about now.

Afterwords, Vidia does something called "filing nails." It feels incredibly strange and leaves her quite irritated at the end of it as a result of my constant flinching. Well, good.

Finally, Clelia gives them a little nod.

"We'll do the makeup after the costume is on. I want Markus to see the whole effect."

"Huh?"

She gives a grin. "I decided to something a little different from your district's norm this year."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Clelia clasps her nails together. She's looking all too much like the evil witch in the story right now. "Oh, let's just say I went for something a little…darker."

Oh, great.

She waves Aris and Vidia to go get the costume from behind a curtain that I'm guessing is my won private dressing room. Well, yippee for me.

The two of them come out with it between them.

My first thing I do is nothing but stare at it with an open mouth.

It's an all bald base made of some tight, stretchy material. But over it is the same material that's made in fish nets. This black layer forms a sort of cape all over me. Inside the net are glistening deep red pieces of fabric. Blood red, actually. Like, like dead fish. Yeah, that's what it's like. I get a black and metallic futuristic looking trident to hold.

Then, I wear gladiator type shoes. Black also, of course. With metal spikes coming from the sides.

"So, what do you think?" Silvio asks excitedly.

"Uh, woah." Is all I say. Won't Dad be a little shocked to see me like this?

Alia too.

I wonder what she's thinking when she's watching this thing.

I bet she's sobbing into her pillow over me being picked right now.

You know what?

To hell with this. I say that if I ever get home, I'm gonna talk to her. And not just talk to her. We're going to have an actual conversation, damn it. Yeah, and I'm not going to look or walk away at all. Just to civil young adults, walking on the pier and talking. Like none of this ever happened.

Whether or not I'll be able to someday reach this new goal or not is another story entirely.

As it turns out, I don't even get to use that nice dressing room. I have to strip in front of them, women and all. It's so they can all make sure I get the thing on correctly. Okay, yeah it is hard. The under layer is made of really tight stuff that is awfully hard to get over my arms that bulge with muscles coming from years helping Dad bring in the nets. The fish net takes forever to drape just so all over me. Then the red fabric scraps slip and slide every way, so we have to get those corrected too. The shoes are a little big, but I don't say anything.

Clelia claps her hands. "Make sure those fabric scraps stay in place. They're supposed to represent fish."

I have to admit, I do feel a little pride in myself for being able to recognize that.

Aris sits me in a chair and immediately he and the others set to work covering my face in all manner of powders and paints. It feels absolutely terrible. Like there's something literally weighing down my face. I want to pull it all off. But of course I don't.

Besides, the ending effect does look fantastic.

It does what it's supposed to do.

And that's to make me stand out.

To make me memorable.

My face is a mixture of whites, blacks and reds. Black is etched on my eyebrows and all above my eyes. My whole face is powdered a white color, with red streaks on my cheeks, along with black. The effect makes my cheekbones seem sunken in. I look like a mixture of a fishing net and some kind of demon. Just looking at the figure in the mirror sends chills up my spine.

I manage to mumble "Thanks."

The prep team heads out in a flurry of whispers and laughter. No doubt, this is the social event of the year. How sickening.

But Clelia stays for just a moment more to admire her work.

"The others will be here in a moment. You'll go with you district partner and mentor out to where the chariots are being readied."

She turns on her heel to go, smiling to herself.

I look myself over in the mirror.

Fright-inducing for sure.

It's not even me staring back.

But I like that.

It's not me at all and I really, really like that.

**Violet Callo's POV**

I finger the netting on me.

Just standing in this room is enough to make anybody's heart flutter like somebody set a bunch of moths there like you were a candle or something.

It's the biggest room I've ever been in.

Actually, it sure doesn't feel like I'm in a room at all. It feels more like I'm outside. All that's different is if I look up, there is a gigantic roof over it all.

Everywhere, there are tributes.

They line up next to their chariots in the most amazing clothes I've ever seen. Really, the chariots are just as fantastic.

I stare at the one that's been given to Markus and me. It's deep, deep blue. Like the ocean itself. Then there are swirls of emerald green all over it. Waves seem to splash right out if it. Fish swim in school across the sides. The wheels are covered in intricate paint designs. It's beautiful, like everything else here.

Not that I should be getting too comfortable.

Right now, I feel all tensed up. I'm hanging on the edge of my toes. It feels like I want to take off any second. I can't wait for the Games to start. This waiting is killing me. It's suspense, but it's damn cruel suspense.

I'm surrounded by the kids who are gonna try to kill me.

I lace my fingers together. I hate this. But it'll be over soon. For right now, I'm just going to have to relax a little bit.

The time to run will come soon enough, anyways.

I crane my neck to see the other competitors.

The two way in the front, those are the pair from One. They're real pretty. I mean, they'd probably get beat up or something if it was them living in the Bayou. They both have blond hair and pale skin that stands out even more cause they're dressed all in white. Enormous feathered wings go out from their backs. They wear headdresses that look like little crowns, covered in huge silver jewels.

Angels?

That sure is strange. Why did their stylist choose to dress them like that? I may have lived in a shack in the middle of a remote swamp my whole life, but that ain't living under a rock. I know a Career district from the rest. And One has always been just that.

So who are they foolin'?

I'm completely transfixed by Two's costumes. They're mostly black, but harsh angular pieces of fabric stick out at random ends. Mountains. Right on their clothes! Even their faces are done to look even harsher than they are in real life.

I feel myself shudder.

That girl from Two creeps me out a little, to say the least. I gotta stay away from her if I want to keep my blood all inside my body where it belongs.

From Three, there's a girl who is just a little shorter than me.

Huh. Maybe she could make a good ally.

I sneak around the carriage to get a better look. Victor always used to tell me that I have quiet feet. Daddy would laugh about it too, calling me his little "twinkle toes." Man, I loved to make Dad laugh. I used to go running and trying to catch the little mice that ran in the muddy ground. And the two of them would laugh and laugh cause I was so tiny and running so fast that my feet hardly sunk into the mud at all.

Her costume is covered in wires. The wires light up and the light seems to travel right through 'em. Just like a….computer chip of some kind. Yeah, that's what it's supposed to be.

Well, whatever it is, it's amazing.

The girl's eyes have a funny look though. Like she's not even here at all. Maybe that's just her way to deal with it all. It's scary, after all.

We just have different ways of dealing with it.

I don't see the sense in mourning and all that. What I'm going to do is whatever my mentor tells me and fight my hardest. How far could I get if I didn't even try? I would never know how much potential I could have.

I like that word. Potential.

And she doesn't look like she has it.

So it might be a good idea to find someone else to be my ally.

The pair from Five are both older than me. They're dressed as scientists, with lad coats and all that. But not just ordinary lab coats. The girl's is cut way down and end way short. It really shows off her curvy figure. Curvy to say the least. She looks like a lady all these Capital people would swoon over. She's that pretty.

But it's not your typical sort of pretty.

It's pretty in a scary way. It's beyond pretty. It's…entrancing. Seductive, too. And her face just adds to it.

She glares at everyone with a glinting look in her eye. It's like we're all pieces of meat that have been served to her.

Her look says she's above this all.

It is sort of strange to see her partner in comparison. I remember his name as Jimmy, from the Reaping Recaps I saw. I'm not sure why I remember it, to be honest. He stands there in his lab coat that hangs all around his scrawny body and shaking, knobby knees. His gangly, stick-like figure is such a contrast to hers.

He looks like he could have been a nice guy back in his district.

But nice isn't what I'm looking for.

Both from Six are also much older than me. They wear tunics patterned with car parts that look so real. Like they're going to fall right off the fabric at any second! The belts for the tunics are flashing headlights and they even have bracelets and anklets made of scrap metal. The metal glints, throwing little squares of light everywhere.

For what I'm sure is at least the fifth time today, I can't help but feel my mouth hanging open in awe.

I've seen so many things today that no other kid in the whole district ever has and likely ever will.

Take that, Maebelle Jessup, you uppity little cow! I bet you ain't never gonna see what I'm seeing right now.

Bet she never dined on caviar at eight o' clock in the morning neither.

Course, I would't mention that caviar twists my gut something awful.

Wonder what she's doing now.

I bet she's sitting in her pretty little living room with a couch that doesn't even have any rips or stuffing spilling out. I bet she's got her projecting screen turned way up high so she can hear every word and see everything going on.

Wonder if she's laughing.

The very picture of that girl sitting on her couch, laughing so hard at my terror that her curls are bouncing every which way infuriates me to no end.

Infuriates. That's a good word, that is.

I hope Alexis beats her up good. If Alexis saw Maebelle laughing like that, I bet she'd be on her in a red hot minute, she would. Sure, Alexis doesn't have the temper I have. Or rather, the guts. But she knows just as well as I do that you gotta stand up for what you gotta. And you gotta do what you gotta do to set people straight.

Would Maebelle be set straight if she saw me on the ground of the Arena, bloody and dead?

Jeez, Violet. Jeez. What am I doing?

I can't think terrible thoughts like that. If it comes, it comes. But heaven knows I ain't going down gentle. And that's for sure.

That's when I spot her.

She's the girl from Eight. But it;s not really her I notice first. It's her costume.

Beautiful pieces of thread in all colors hang down from two wooden planks on her shoulders. Her leggings are a pattern of all different cloth. Her district partner is dressed the same way. The threads on their outfits are so many in number that they form a short kind of tunic, until you notice that all it is is thread. The colors shift and bend just like a real rainbow would do.

They're like looms.

I'm real proud of myself for having figured that one out. Paying attention in school pays off sometimes, 'cept when it's real useless. For example, I don't think my teacher in that dingy old place ever taught us how to survive a fight to the death. Or even how to hunt and find for for yourself. That one I learned by myself. There sure are a lot of things a girl has got to learn all by herself.

I notice that she's just my age.

She's looking around, all observant. But she isn't glaring at everyone, like Five Girl.

Or making crazy, shifty eyes every which way like that girl Anna from Six.

She's just taking everything in with wide eyes, just like me.

So I stand next to her.

Maybe it's cause Markus is just standing there with a blank look on his face. Maybe it's cause the rest of the kids seem a little bit psycho or out of it.

Well, maybe I shoulda expected that one. I mean, there were bound to be crazies this year.

But she just looks normal and ready. And calm. Like she's got everything planned out.

I stay near her for just a second, when she actually walks over and opens her mouth to speak.

I did not expect that at all.

"Hey, you're from Four, I'm guessing?"

I stare down at my own outfit before answering. "Yes. I'm from Four. The Bayou part, actually." I add, just cause that feels important.

She nods. She sure does have a lot of freckles. They form little pin pricks of darker tan on her already tan face. A few pieces of dirty blond hair fall in her brown eyes.

"Well, I'm from Eight." She says matter-of-factly. "A mill kid." She adds softly.

"Oh."

"That girl from Seven looks crazy, doesn't she?"

I spot the girl she's talking about. A tiny little thing, more like a twig than a girl. Bouncing from one foot to the next in nerves and excitement. And…grinning.

I shudder. "Strange. I hate feelin' like the only sane one in this place."

The girl grins. "The feeling's mutual. You aren't the only sane one. I intend on keeping my head right on me until I die." She frowns, wrinkling her freckled nose. "Not that I'm going down without a fight, of course."

Well, lookie there! What luck I sure have right now, huh? Maria, my mentor, would be so relieved if she knew I found an ally in near 'bout three seconds. Yeah, that's what I want this girl for. She and I, we'd sure make a good team. We think the same way! Why, I bet if she lived in Four, I wouldn't mind her one bit.

"I'm Violet."

She gets where I'm going with this. "I'm Keira. Allies?"

I accept her outstretched hand and shake it.

"Those Career won't know what hit 'em." I tell Keira.

She laughs. So I laugh too.

It ain't like you can laugh all that much when you're trapped in a place like this. So I'm real glad Keira could do that. That's a good sign, I feel.

A breeze suddenly wafts through the room.

The enormous set of steel doors have just opened. The first chariot is pulling out.

I walk back to where Markus stands, watching intently as a man fixes the reins on the horses. His eyes are clouded over. I don't know if it's fear or determination. Likely though, it's both. Being from the City where the Training Cneter is set to go up real soon, he likely isn't a mite afraid of the Careers.

He gives me a little nod. "What were you doing over there?"

I frown. "What do you care? I was making an ally, just like Maria told me to."

"That fast, huh?"

I don't say anything.

Markus grits his teeth. "Look, Violet. That might not be a good idea. Making an ally, I mean. It just makes it that much easier for them to get to you. You'd be better off hiding somewhere."

I exhale. "Markus, you don't know nothin.' Fact is, I bet you couldn't tell hemlock from daisies. Maria told me I'd best find an ally, so damn it, that's what I'm gonna do. An ally means someone to share supplies with and someone who will back me up in an attack."

He only shakes his head.

Finally, we stand up on the chariot and lurch forward.

I grab at the sides, holding on for my life. The horses knicker a little and move their huge legs. We go through the door and I'm blasted with air.

Outside, it is warm. There are no stars in the sky, which makes me feel a mite more scared somehow.

I feel frozen into this thing.

Tall stands surround the pathway of the chariots. The stands are full of seats and in each one of these thousands of seats is a person.

They form a moving picture of brilliant color under the dark sky. Lights fill where they sit. Bright, flashing lights come from every direction, making me want to put my hand up.

There are just so many. As we pass them, they meet my eyes. I see a few pointing arms to me and turning to the people next to them. Hair done up or out or dyed a ridiculous color or any other manner blows in the breeze. Some people laugh. I can see them all the way from down here. Some I pass take notes, looking very serious.

Sponsors.

All of what Maria told me goes back into my head.

I can finally think again.

Make then realize that I am not just another thirteen year old. I've got fire in me. I ain't going to hide away and wait for someone to save me. Oh no. I'm gonna fight with every breath in me.

Slowly, I let go of the sides of the chariot.

Standing strong, I harden my gaze. Put that fire back into my eyes. I am not scared. I am Violet Callo. Violet Callo can take anything.

I meet the gaze of everyone in the stands. I want to show them that I can do this.

Now, some look at me with surprise.

They weren't expecting that.

I hold my chin up. A tiny smile forms at my lips. This isn't so hard after all. Why, even Markus is getting the hang of it. Course, he's mostly glaring. Suit yourself, Markus.

Me? I'm gonna win these people over.

Ahead, just as we start slowing down, I see the President's Mansion.

It's a gigantic marble banners hang from all ends of it, stamped with the gold Capital seal. Columns reach up and support the massive structure. There are countless windows, all with intricate designs carved into the stone above them. On a balcony, another banner hangs.

And right above it is President Snow.

I don't know that much about him. Call me ignorant, but I don't have time to keep up with that thing called politics.

Here's what I know.

He wears simple clothing. He likes using big words in his speeches. As far as hair goes, he needs his cut. I've heard he likes roses and red wine. He is charismatic leader, but a calculating one nonetheless. He is calm and collected.

And he's utterly and totally evil.

His name came up all the time when Dad would have a little too much to drink. We would stay up all night, him and Victor and me. Throwing bottles at the wall and yelling the worst words we knew right to his name. If luck would have it, we would find a picture of him somewhere. In no time, Victor would find a set of rusty knives from under the stove.

If anybody wants to know, that's how I learned how to throw knives.

By throwing 'em right at his face.

I squint my eyes to get a better look. Yep. He looks just the same as in his pictures. Like always, he has his signature calm look on his face. Even though he is in front of thousands of people, he looks completely unfazed. Neither worried nor excited. Utterly neutral.

I resist the urge to stick a certain finger up at the man.

"Welcome citizens of Panem! Tributes, a special welcome to you!"

His voice booms out from speakers placed everywhere. A projection screen above him shows his image to all. Cameras flash and the lights fill the deep blue night sky.

"Happy Hunger Games!"

The hairs on my neck stand up a little at that one. Happy?

"I hope your journey here was a good one. Now, as we all know this year is a little special."

He pauses. A cheer rises up from the stands.

"It is a Quarter Quell. The first one, to be exact. All of the tributes you see before you have been voted in. Every district had a different criteria for their representative. Many picked the one they thought most likely to win."

The girl next to me from Five gives a smug grin.

"Others were voted in because they are the outcast. The law breakers. Their district felt they deserved to be punished."

I force myself not to let those words sink into my head. I did not do anything wrong. It was just a little blood, that's all. Okay, so maybe there was a huge hole in her hand that she still has to wear bandages to cover. But Maebelle Jessup, you should not not to mention my father's name. There were a whole lotta worse things I could've done to you in a red-hot second.

The girl from Three next to me gives a hacking cough. Her partner stands next to her, obviously clueless.

Why'd anybody vote a sick little girl into the Games, I sure won't ever know.

The President sighs into the microphone. "Though the mood may see celebratory, we must remember that this is a sad occasion. It was sad for us to witness our brothers from outside rebel against us. They had no reason to do as such. Our own lives and everything we held dear was put in danger. We were no longer safe. It is a shame that they took that away from us. But they also took it away from themselves. Upsetting, indeed. And so we had no choice but to punish them. All this to be sure they would never do it again."

He clears his throat. "The Quarter Quells just add emphasis to this. Let us all remember how sad a day like today really is. But then, we must move on. Hope, citizens. There is always hope. And this is why we do not celebrate this in such a melancholy fashion. No, we still wear bright colors and host grand feasts. There is televised excitement everywhere. This is because we know our safety will never be put in jeopardy again."

Cheers and clapping rise from everywhere. The applause is thunderous.

He backs away and motions for the carriages to go.

We end up going back the way we came.

But I find myself unable to concentrate on the audience. I'm lost in my own head.

The chariot returns to the cavernous room. All of the rest of the kids are slowly removing the most cumbersome parts of their costumes and meeting up with their mentors.

I hop off the thing to go find my own.

I have a lot to tell her.

First though, I pass a group of Careers. Districts One and Two are standing with each other, looking especially formidable.

But I know what to do. Straightening my shoulders, I stick my chin up and walk right past them.

A look of stone is set on my face. The only difference between me and that is my eyes burning right into 'em.

They can do nothing but stare.

And they won't know what hit 'em.

**A/N Past 100,000 words! I'm so happy for all of you guys who made that possible. Next we'll start training, which will be mostly observations so that all tributes will hopefully be mentioned quite a bit. Submitters, PM me what stations you think your character would spend the most time at.**


	19. Training: Day One

**A/N I just made a forum! I'm so excited. It;s an award forum for the best fics of 2013. I would love you forever if you posted a nomination! Here's the link: forum/2013-Hunger-Games-Awards/132022/**

**There will be three Training chapters, so hopefully all of your characters will be mentioned several times. Thank you to all of you who told me what stations your character would most likely be find out. That was very helpful. :) Keep in mind that if, while you are reading, you see a character's name you don't remember that much about, go back to the Tribute Profiles on chapter 2 to refresh your memory. There are a lot of them, os that's okay!**

**Jimmy Thrine's POV**

When I open my eyes, I feel that the sheets around me are a twisted mess.

Well, it's no wonder. I tossed and turned to no end last night.

Last night was rough.

There was this really strange feeling in my gut that lasted the whole time. Maybe it was from seeing all these kids in one room and knowing that nearly all are going to die in a matter of days. The thought is so eerie it sends chills down my spine.

By this time next week, almost all will be dead.

Of course, now their faces run through my mind with even more clarity.

There was the tiny, pixie-like girl from Seven who wore an outfit of vines completely encircling her, with a tiara made of the same. I see the two young looking ones from Ten who looked the same age, wearing matching tunics completely made of all different kinds of animal furs. They were talking to each other in low voices, no doubt allies trying to figure out how to make it through this hellish ordeal. The two girls from Eleven and Five, both wearing different things and looking different, but yet the same.

They wore the same face. One of pure, cold determination.

One was dressed in scrap metal and flashing lights, while the other wore a brilliant robe and crown made entirely of red roses. That one's partner was so small in his red rose cape. Eleven. Flowers. That's what it meant.

The costumes made no impression on me. It was the faces.

There were the two from Twelve, utter opposites. Both were dressed like coal embers, with little glowing red dots covering their inky black suits. But the girl was so small she looked even younger than the twelve year olds, while the boy was muscular and healthy-looking.

I bet the girl was Elsie's size.

I wish Elsie were here right now. Not in the Games, obviously. But here in the Capital. I'm sure they could cure whatever is wrong with her. She would be running around and skipping and jumping in no time. And she could get healthyier off of all the good food here. And the warm beds.

Groaning, I push myself out of bed.

I have to do this. I have no choice. Either I get it over with and spend the remainder of my life doing something, or I sit around crying to myself.

There's no way in hell I'd let Mom or Elsie see me cry on television.

So that's it then.

I head over to the clothing rack and choose the outfit marked "Training Outfit." The endless supply of clothing is another reason why Elsie would be in heaven here.

The training clothes have always been the same, as far as I know. there are regular black pants and a black shirt with a numbered patch on the sleeve according to district.

An eerie thought courses through me.

Surely, they wouldn't waste valuable fabric. If the outfits are the same every year, it's very possible that I'm wearing the same clothes another guy my same size did.

A boy who died.

I know this because Five has never had a Victor. Now, I went to school all my years in Five. I know how to infer things. And if fabric shouldn't be wasted and could be recycled, it would. So this must have been worn at least once. Whoever wore this is dead. I don't know for how long, but he is dead now.

I dress more slowly than I have ever gotten dressed before.

The material feels fine. It even smells new. So maybe it is.

Anyway, I have a very limited time left here. Then, I don't really know what will happen. But for now, I don't want eerie and frightening thoughts crowding my mind.

Maybe I should make some kind of peace with myself. I hear that's what one should do before death.

It isn't death itself that scares me. It's the picture in my head of my family eating dinner at the table and I'm just not there. Elsie and Mom are crying. Even Dad's eyes are red.

A terrible picture, if there ever was one.

Combing my hair by running my fingers through it, I head into the dining room.

I've seen it already last night at dinner, but seeing it in full morning light is astounding. There's no better word for it. A chandelier made of crystal hangs above a clear table, with bright green chairs next to it. The carpet is made of fabric that looks like it's changing colors slightly as it goes. Huge, arching windows look out into the street. Sculptures made of pure, ice white material and potted plants of all sorts fill the remainder of the space. It's so enormous, my whole apartment could fit in the dining room alone.

But what is most impressive is the food display.

It takes everything in me to choose modestly. Well, as modest as it gets here. But as much as I want to spend the remainder of my days lost in a haze from overeating the best foods, it's not the right thing to do now. Now, I have to act strong for that television footage they'll be showing in my house and everyone else's.

I put some very yellow eggs on my plate, along with a piece of snow-white bread. That should suffice. It's probably the same amount of food I eat in the whole of a day back home.

Choosing where to sit is a little trickier.

Celestia, the escort who has a fondness for eye-watering type of vibrant fabrics, chews a piece of bread with jam spread slowly. Her many bracelets dangle from her wrists.

Styx, the Capital appointed mentor, chews his toast loudly and rudely. Little bits of spit fly out of his doesn't seem like the very picture of a Capital gentleman at all. But then again, an ordinary citizen of this place would not have volunteered to mentor. I can't even imagine why Styx would. He looks terribly unhappy and actually a little bored right now.

God, I want to punch that look of indifference right off his face.

Katerina sits at the far end of the table. She chews an apple slowly. For all I know, she's trying to look seductive again. Jeez. Leave it to that girl to try to look sexy while eating an apple.

It might even be funny somewhere else.

I just settle into a chair in the middle and try to eat as quickly as humanly possible. It isn't easy because I have to concentrate on avoiding Celestia's stream of endless chatter. On top of that, I have to duck away from the spittle sflying from Styx's mouth and lean away from Katerina's attempt at a seductive gaze.

All-in-all, just eating is a full-time job here.

Finally, Celestia claps her hands together to signal that it's time Katerina and I go down to the Training Room.

I feel my fingers shake a little from nerves. I honestly have no idea what to expect.

We walk out into the hallway for a split second before sliding into an elevator. I have no liking for the things.

At first, when I rode in one to my Goodbye Room, as I've come to call it, inside the Justice Building, I was fascinated by the mechanical wonder that is the elevator.

But now I just see them as confined, tiny spaces where one is forced to make conversation with the likely very odd other person inside, lest a terribly awkward and tense silence fall upon the both of us.

I have yet to become skilled in elevator etiquette.

Styx told me that the button for the Training Room was B for Basement. I press B and the elevator begins its agonizingly slow descent down.

Katerina folds her arms over her chest before brushing a strand of hair back into her tight ponytail with one flick of her finger. The tight training outfit shows off her….voluptuous figure. She licks her lips quickly, as if contemplating something. Or maybe just another attempt at looking sexy.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Her voice is low and whispery.

"What the hell?" I splutter.

She shrugs. "You are a virgin. Do I need to spell it out for you? Or am I wrong in my assumption?"

"Well, yeah. I mean no. I mean, you're right. But…what the hell?" I choke out.

"I just know. You're going to die a virgin, isn't that a shame?"

I scratch the back of my neck, for lack of a better thing to do at all. "I, uh, I guess I never thought of it that way."

Although I have. I just don't want to give the creepy thing any ideas.

She laughs a tinkling, airy laugh. It's pretty unlike the lower tone of voice she was just using a minute ago. Multiple personality disorder? Maybe so.

"How old are you anyway, Kat?" I ask slowly.

Katerina bristles at the shortened form of her name, which only encourages me. "I'm fifteen." She says quickly. "But I'll be sixteen soon enough. You know, that's old enough for a lot of things. I've seen some things I'm sure you never have. And you don't look eighteen, if you ask me Jimmy."

I roll my eyes. "Forget it, Kat. Just try to control yourself when we get down there. I hear those Career guys are total sex gods."

The doors finally cling open.

I never thought I would be so relieved to hear doors open.

There is a short walk down a metal corridor, but I walk ahead of "Kat" and fling the doors to the Center open without hesitation.

And then I remember where I am.

A few kids look back at me, all dressed in the same black that I am. They all stand with their district partners, but I see no reason why this is so. It's not like it's a rule or anything.

So I stand next to the muscular-looking blond guy from Nine, Gavin I think, and his bony, angular partner.

A man standing on a raised platform clears his throat just as the pair from Eight, the last to arrive, walk in.

"Welcome, tributes." He says gruffly. "My name is Atticus. Let me cut right to the chase here. These next few days will not be easy for any of you." His intense gaze sweeps the room and I swear his eyes land right on me.

"But try to keep your emotions at bay." He continues. "This place isn't where any of you can go to cry. This place is for learning how to survive the ordeal that waits for you. And crying won't help you one bit with that. So do what you have to in order to survive. If it means you have to be completely flat so as to avoid those dangerous emotions, so be it. And please, try not to let yourselves have too much pity. Pity can be dangerous. And don't think I don't know how some of you play this game."

Atticus's ice-blue eyes grow even more intense. "Save it for the Arena. There will be no intimidating the other tributes on my watch. You'll be neutral, understand? And don't spend all your time at weapons either. This applies to everyone, but I think some of you could heed this more than others. Good luck."

With that, we're dismissed.

Surprisingly, it seems like everyone has made up their minds.

I thought this would only apply to the Careers. Of course, despite Atticus's advice, they all go to the weapons section.

But others know where they're going too.

Gavin, from Nine, who was standing right next to me goes to the weapons area right away with determination. He picks up a scythe and wields it with ease. Katerina saunters over to the weapons as well. She fingers the array of knives with a little smile on her face.

She's joined by that girl Anna from Six, who wears the same satisfied look upon picking one up. I shiver. Weird. Normally the kids from Six don't get anywhere near the weapons. I'm shocked to see the guy from Three. He's huge and actually pretty intimidating.

As for the rest of them, they at least know what they're good at too.

The younger kids, Gav from Eleven, Jezebelle from Twelve and tiny, bouncy India from Seven go to the Plant Identifying station. India hops from one foot to the other, obviously unsure of what to do but following Gav and Jezebelle in nodding at the instructor.

I walk numbly to the Fire-Making Station. That seems useful enough, I guess.

A girl sits there already. She and the trainer nod to me. He seems pleased that some have shown up to his humble station this soon.

He gives me some matches and instructs me on the basics of finding the right firewood. He guides me through the various piles, advising a strongly against the one made of wet wood and the one made of green.

They'll smoke too much and attract unwanted attention. The last thing I want.

So I set to work with my matches, muttering to myself the instructions. The girl next to me, does the same, minus the muttering. I'm just about to apologize to her and explain that sometimes I talk without even noticing it.

Then I see the number on her shirt.

It's the number One.

My eyebrows shoot right up. "So, you're from One?"

The girl , who looks a little younger than me, turns her head, her dirty-blond ponytail falling into her eyes for a split second. She blinks blue-gray eyes. "Yes. I am."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, I was just a little surprised." I say sheepishly. "Aren't you going to go with the Careers?"

She shakes her head, smiling. "No, that's not for me."

I nod like I completely understand, but in reality I'm clueless.

"I'm Kaja, by the way." Her face reddens a little.

"Jimmy. And it might help if you added a little more kindling."

Kaja grins shyly. "Oh. I guess you're right."

"So Kaja, if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you with the Careers?"

She sighs and brushes some hair from her shoulder. "Ah, that. A lot of reasons. Firstly, back at home I became the caretaker of two young girls and so I didn't have much time to train anymore. Along with that, I hated it anyway. I wanted a real, steady job someday. So I went back to school. Besides, I've never been a big fan of the Games or the people running them."

Her voice is lowered to a whisper on that line.

"Huh. Makes sense." I say simply.

Kaja smiles. "I'm glad you think so. Now tell me, is my fire too smoky?"

I scratch my head. The instructor has already moved on to helping the pair from Ten who have just arrived. "If you think it might be too smoky, it probably is. Wouldn't want to attract any attention from the Career pack."

"They're weaker than usual this year." She says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah?" This is yet another surprising thing I've heard today.

Kaja gestures over to them. "Yes. Can't you see it? I know Adonis because he's my district partner. We talked on the train. He's a pretty decent guy. And from what I know and have heard about Julian, he's more the diplomatic type. Adonis and I talked to him at the Parade. He says he plans on letting a lot of kids into the alliance to avoid further conflict."

"That's…unusual."

"It is. But only because it's never been done before. It's actually not a bad idea."

"And what about the girl?" I ask this hesitantly, as I think I already know the answer.

Kaja sighs. "Oh, Shimmer. She's half the reason why I didn't join."

Enough said there.

The two next to us whisper together. They're obviously allies and also knew each other prior to the Games. Oak and Howleen. I only remember their names because they are so unusual.

I'm about to ask Kaja if she has made any plans for what to do, when she suddenly stiffens.

"What is it?"

She grimaces. "What do you know about the guy from Four? Markus?"

I look around the Center. Eventually, my eyes land on him at the Animal-Skinning station. It's a bit of an odd station for a large-looking guy from Four, who would easily fit in with the Career. He's alone and looks like he prefers it that way. Right now, he's absorbed in the rabbit he's preparing.

So far, I don't know anything about him.

"Not much." I answer honestly.

Kaja takes a long, low breath. "Adonis told me something he heard our escort say. Apparently, a lot of people in District Four think he murdered someone. There's no proof because no one found the body, but some girl saw it and freaked out. I guess he punched a guy so hard he got knocked out and fell off a dock or something. So obviously he couldn't resurface because he was unconscious. The rest is history."

I can't find the words to say at all.

"That's awful." I choke out.

I know that there were pickpockets here. I know that there are thieves here. I know that there are kids here who their districts put in because they are dangerous. Unstable kids. Outcasts. Orphans. Rebels.

Never would I have thought that a kid could commit murder.

But now that I'm sitting here, I know that most of these kids right here right now will do just that. And it will be excused.

So what does that mean for a guy who is already ahead of all of us?

There is someone not twenty feet from me who has already killed someone.

The most important question is, how easy will it be for him to do it again?

I shudder.

If I've learned one thing so far from this whole thing, it is that there is no way to feel safe.

There just isn't.

**Katerina Rebekha Nikolina 's POV**

This is going to be so easy.

The Career alliance this year is desperate for new members.

And it's no wonder.

Firstly, normally One and Two, the Career districts, can count on Four to be on their side. Not this year. The girl from Four is one of the youngest here, at only thirteen. She knows better than to stick with kids all at least two years older and leagues more experienced than she is. She's off with some other little girl her age, skinning squirrels.

The guy from Four, Markus, just snuck off. Now he's making a fire, looking sullen and alone as ever. The strange thing is, he's made it quite clear that he doesn't want to be a Career! How could anyone do that?

To me, it seems like the only and the obvious choice.

The existing members of the Careers aren't much better.

Julian, the boy from Two, is the exact opposite of what I've always thought the guys from Two were. He's calm and collected. He likes to talk things through. What really works in my favor is that he's extremely open to letting kids from other districts into the alliance.

He's already let in Jace, from Three.

Adonis is a little harder to understand. At first glance, he doesn't seem all that much different from boys in his district in the past years. But let no one forget. I'm like a puppet master. And so, I understand his movements. People are no more than puppets. And as much as he might like to become a puppet master, he is not.

On top of that, he does not like Shimmer.

Now, I am a little glad for a girl like Shimmer, even if she does mean more competition for me.

At least someone can take the reins a little for that pathetic bunch.

I eye the display of knives in front of me.

I'm fully aware that both Julian and Shimmer are watching me.

Adonis is trying any way possible to avoid Shimmer, who hangs onto a bit too much for comfort. Right now, he and Jace are deep in conversation about the maces and hammers and which will be best for Jace.

But I have the eyes of Shimmer and Julian. And that is enough.

I've always loved having audiences.

I pick up a knife. Oh, who knows? Maybe I will choose a mace instead. But for now, these little things are easy to handle.

It hits the target. Right in the heart.

I barely have time to bristle with pride before Julian walks right up to me.

Perfect. I already have him in my hand.

"That's was a nice hit." He says simply. He has a nice, calm tone of voice. It's like when he's speaking, he feels like he can take all the time he wants to finish his sentence. Even his stance is calm. While everyone else is tense and a bundle of nerves, he stands with his hands folded and knees relaxed.

"You'd make a nice addition to our alliance." Shimmer follows.

I can't say I like her tone of voice quite as much. Nor do I like the way she is still eyeing Adonis, even from here.

"I'd really appreciate the chance to be in your alliance." I smile, sticky sweet.

Julian nods. "Okay. Great."

Shimmer clears her throat. "Adonis and I were thinking that lunch is probably going to be soon. We can talk strategy then."

Julian looks around. "Hey Shimmer, I'm gonna talk to her for a sec here. If you don't mind."

She frowns. "But it's not like you're the leader or something."

It's almost funny how childish she looks right now. Her lower lip is even stuck in a pout.

"Talk to Adonis about maces or something. I know you've been considering that as your weapon."

Shimmer brightens considerably at the idea of talking to handsome, muscular Adonis. She leaves right away.

That gets me thinking. It seems Shimmer is a very tough girl. But she's also incredibly shallow. An odd combination, but doable nonetheless. Doable in the sense that I can still pull her strings. I can even cut them, should the need come along. Maybe everyone's fear of Shimmer isn't exactly justified.

I can think of someone else they should very well be afraid of.

But never mind that. My jealousy of her will do nothing but harm. I'll just let her be until the time comes.

Julian shuffles his feet. "So, I'm sorry about this, but what's your name again?"

"Katerina. But Kat's fine, I guess. If you must."

"And how old are you?"

This question takes considerably more pause from me than the first. But I have to be honest. He'd likely find out anyway.

"Fifteen." I mumble.

His eyebrows raise a little. "That means you'll be the youngest in our group. But I wouldn't worry or anything. As long as you don't get on anyone's bad side, we should be able to do what we have to do."

Not get on anyone's bad side? Little does he know, but that's harder for me than he thinks.

I go back to throwing the knives. Julian's eyes are clearly still on me, though he's pretending to be focused on a little dagger in his hand. Huh. What an interesting choice for a weapon. Considering that he is from Two, I thought he would have a bulkier tougher-looking weapon than just a little dagger.

But once I see what he can do with it, I understand why.

It's just another hand to him. He waves it through the air and slices through dummy after dummy. Not too shabby.

Although I hate to say it, but I think Adonis is a little better with his sword, though.

All of a sudden, a bell rings.

Weapons clatter to the ground. Everyone races towards the door.

For most of these kids, who were starving before, the idea of lunch is heaven.

I follow closely in Jace's heels to the dining room.

I'm glad that the space is considerably smaller than the Training Center. For after all, the smaller the space is, it seems the more likely I can be noticed. There are twelve tables, although most districts don't actually eat together at all. Most just want to distance themselves and brood about their oncoming doom and all that shit. Not for me!

I end up choosing a salad with emerald green fresh-looking lettuce and grape tomatoes shining like jewels. I'm at awe at the option to put a creamy sauce-like thing called dressing on top. Then, I slide a roll onto the plate.

Whole my own food choices look considerably more conservative than the rest, I didn't mean to be trying to eat healthier to get fit or something.

It's just that we never have vegetables in Five.

I slide in next to Jace, who is chewing slowly on a piece of beef from the stew he got. He's a very silent guy, but I think I can warm him up a little.

No task is too hard for me.

Shimmer sits next to Adonis, an identical salad to mine on her dish.

She leans on his elbow and smiles at everything he says, laughing and twirling her hair like this is just another school lunchroom.

And not a fight to the death or anything, oh no! Pretty little blond dolt need not worry.

Damn! That girl makes my blood boil like nothing ever has before. She's flirting with Adonis. _Flirting. _And I hate to admit it, but she's got a rack on her. No, this is not how it is supposed to happen. I am the puppet master. I have control. And this is not how I want things to play out.

What does the bitch think she's doing?!

Flirting was supposed to be my strategy. Now, it's not much use at all.

I feel a shadow cast over the table.

Looking up with a leaf of lettuce on my fork, I see the District Nine guy, Gavin.

He wrings his hands.

"Uh, hey. I'm Gavin." He says softly.

Julian pauses mid-chew. "What, do you want to join the alliance?"

He nods. "Sure, I think I could help. I'm good with a scythe."

Adonis shakes Shimmer's hand off his arm. "Good. That's a more unusual weapon. I don't think any of us here have any experience with that one."

We shake our heads and Gavin sits down silently next to Jace. The two make a good pair. They even look alike, with their short-cut blond hair and muscular figures.

As the rest of them talk in low murmurs to each other, I take a few moments to look around at what's going on at the other tables.

The pair from Ten, Oak and Howleen, are eating together. Of course. They've been sticking together this whole time. How cute. He's even whispering in her ear and pushing the hair back from it. Like they're two young lovers. Hah! Too bad they're both going to die horrible, bloody deaths.

The boy from Six, Jake, is eating as far away as possible from his partner. It would be comical in any other instance, except for the fact that I have reason to believe that Anna Corinna is totally unhinged.

It's a good thing I will always be so sane.

Ah, sometimes I feel as though I am the only sane person left.

At the table behind us, Cadence from Twelve and Casper from Eight are talking to each other. For reasons I don't fully understand, Jace's district partner is there too. She's the one with the short hair and the hacking cough. She sits way at the other end of the table, but still trying to listen in on their conversation. She must want them as allies.

It's strange that she didn't choose the other two girls who seem her age, who are eating together.

I have no idea why, but both Violet and Keira are smiling.

How odd.

And unnerving. I hate not knowing things.

There is another table, but this one is almost as crowded as ours.

Kaja sits at the head of it, talking to the girl from Nine. I've always thought that girl had a bit of a rat-faced look to her. They both look serious, but seem like they're getting along. Allies? Probably. Raen sits right next to the Nine girl, practically hanging onto every word she says. India kneels on the bench to get a better view, her fingers tapping the table. The small boy from Eleven and the tiny girl from Twelve are there too.

Why are there so many?

All I know is that this could be bad news for us. Yes, we still have time for new recruits. I saw the way that girl Velvet was around the weapons, especially the knives like I was. I feel that, though from the generally rebellious district of Eleven, she'll want to join us.

But still.

That group, since it is pretty large, could be a threat.

Okay. I have no idea even what the girl from Nine's name is. It's likely she isn't experienced with weapons at all. And Kaja is nothing but a traitor, even if she has had some training for this, being from One. I don't know much about Raen either, although his eyes shift frequently so he must be a nervous wreck. India is completely retarded and the two kids from Eleven and Twelve are tiny and malnourished.

I drum my fingers on the table.

I'm sure it means nothing.

We'll get them all in the Bloodbath, anyway.

Adonis once again is making a move to shift away from Shimmer.

I turn to watch, only because it is quite entertaining.

But then he locks eyes with Kaja from the table just across.

She brushes a piece of hair back from her eyes and smiles at him, blushing a little and making a small wave. A sad wave, though.

He, in turn, smiles sadly at her and shrugs his shoulders at us.

She frowns, then nods. Within seconds, she's back to talking to the rest of her table.

No one noticed.

No one but me.

Uh-oh.

It seems to me like Adonis already has a love of his own! And it sure isn't Shimmer.

Oh, this is going to make for an interesting Career pack this year.

**A/N So here is the link to my forum again in case you missed it: forum/2013-Hunger-Games-Awards/132022/**

**Please check it out! You can nominate yourself too, if you want to.**

**Oh, and vote on the poll too! The Bloodbath is getting closer.**


	20. Training: Day Two

**A/N Yeah! One hundred reviews! That has literally been my dream since I logged onto this sight. Thanks so much to all who made it possible.**

**This is the second day of training! So this will have even more character observations. Please PM me if you don't think your character has been mentioned enough. There are a lot of them so sometimes I accidentally leave a few out. We can't have that, can we? Now, on to Jake and Anna. I find it funny that their names are so ordinary, and yet they are both so interesting!**

**Make sure to stop by my forum and leave a nomination!**

**Jake Rittler's POV**

Yesterday was hell.

I don't know how much more of this I can take.

But really, there won't be too much more of it.

Just thinking that provides some relief. But now I'm realizing what a selfish thought that seems. What would Chevy or Wayne say if they knew I was thinking like that? Maybe they'd be sympathetic.

I really hope they would be.

The withdrawal is maddening. I could barely even get out of bed this morning. The sunlight coming through the window felt like it was searing right into my flesh. I guess that's what forced me up eventually. Still, it looks like Anna and I are going to be the very last to arrive at the Training Center.

My legs are shaking underneath me.

No, that's not from fear.

It feels like my stomach is riding right along with this elevator. Up and down. Up and down. And it feels all coiled together.

There's already sweat above my brow, even though it's not that much past nine o' clock.

Today is going to be just as bad as yesterday, that's for sure.

Anna stares around the tiny elevator, smiling a little and humming to herself.

I frown. I recognize that tune from somewhere. Of course, it would be a long time since I've heard it. I can't place it quite exactly. But I do know that it's something little kids sing. Back before living with my murderous drunk of an uncle. Back before I needed morphine to feel calm and at peace.

Bridie used to sing it.

Yeah, I'm sure of it. Used to hum it all the time, that's right!

I feel a rush of guilt. I remember telling the kid to shut up. I was sick of her humming the same old nursery song. She cried real hard.

But now all I feel is frustration for not being able to recognize the tune.

Stuff like that happens when I'm in withdrawal. I focus on tiny little things that I would normally pay no attention to at all. My guess is that since I finally can focus without being in a dreamlike, numb state, my brain doesn't really know what to do at all. So it just goes kind of haywire. Focuses too much entirely.

Actually, I bet any money Chevy knows what's causing me to freak out about this little song.

Wanted to be a doctor, didn't she? She was studying real hard. I felt awful sorry for her, being so naive and all. She won't become a doctor anytime soon. Who needs doctors in Six when you have morphine?

Never been to one in my life.

The elevator opens with a ping.

Anna breezes out, still humming to herself.

What can I do? She is unhinged. I have every reason to believe that she relishes in any opportunity to make those around her feel uncomfortable.

Well, she's in her element.

The hallway here is all metal. It's kind of a shock, after the extreme brightness of everything above ground. They just didn't bother to paint this place at all. I mean, it's fitting and all. The metal looks very sharp and cold. The whole place is enough to make the hairs on anyone's neck raise. You're just walking down this dark, metal hallway and all you can see are heavy double doors at the end.

The actual Training Center is not much different. Cold, gray and metallic.

Oh, and absolutely enormous.

Anna pulls open the door and I slide in behind her.

As I thought, we're the last two inside.

I don't think we're too late though, as Atticus has only just stepped up and begun speaking.

I make an effort to scoot as far away from Anna as possible and end up next to the relatively normal-looking District Five boy. Actually, he seems to be doing the exact same thing with his partner. Katerina doesn't seem to mind at all, though. Her eyes are intensely focused on the District Two guy, Julian.

Poor Julian.

Everyone disperses to their stations.

Now comes a little moment of panic for me. Damn, I used to never panic. Well, to be correct I never used to care at all. Now, the queasy stomach mixed with the panic is going to have me hurl if I don't do something soon.

Calm down, Jake. How hard can it be to find a station with some sort of normal looking kids at it?

The guy I was just standing next to, Jimmy from Five, is off making traps with Kaja from One. Which is a little weird, if you ask me. Why would some really average guy from Five be all casual and in an alliance with some Career?

While they both do seem sane enough, I just don't want to intrude or anything.

The weapons stations are not an option and never will be. They're crawling with Careers.

There's another girl there, too.

She has scarlet hair and pale skin, unusual features for Eleven.

But that's not all that makes her unusual.

She's handling all the weapons like ease. Like Katerina and Shimmer, she throws daggers and knives effortlessly. She's slightly separated from those two, and yet watching them closely from the corner of her eye. Still, she manages to keep her eyes glued to the target.

I watch as she picks up a dagger.

And throws it.

It hits dead center. Right in the heart.

That's when I remember it.

The tune Anna was humming not a few minutes ago.

_Ring around the rosy_

_A pocketful of posy_

_Ashes, Ashes_

_We all fall down_

We all fall down.

I shiver.

And man, I'm totally mentally screwed up without my syringe, but even I can see that something is seriously up with these Careers.

Adonis is conversing with Julian at the moment, gesturing frantically to Shimmer and Katerina, who are over throwing daggers.

Not only are they throwing daggers, but they're sending dagger looks at each other too. So this is what Atticus means when he said "Save it for the Arena." Those two girls would sure as hell kill each other before we even get to the Arena at all! They're obviously seeing who can throw the best. Competition has already begun.

And Katerina, despite being from a "weak district" like Five, is actually giving Shimmer a run for her money.

I slink over to the water container and pour myself a glass. Yeah, it's mainly to ward off this splitting headache.

But I also want to hear what Julian and Adonis are saying.

Adonis bites his lip. "Look Julian, I really can't take this anymore." He says. "I don't know how I can make it these next days with the Shimmer girl hanging onto my arm."

Julian only smiles grimly. "Adonis, I'm not better off myself. Have you seen the way Katerina look at me? It's like I'm a piece of meat. I don't like it. No, I don't like it one bit. And I have a girlfriend too! Besides, Katerina is fifteen freaking years old. But we can't do anything about it!"

"Yeah? Why not?" Adonis demands.

Julian shakes his head. "It's all part of the plan. Just stick to it. Being from Two, I've got some authority over this pack, like it or not."

Adonis says nothing. It is true, though. District Two kids are the toughest of the tough. Even the guys from One don't want to contradict them. Yeah, Julian isn't really the typical monstrous caveman. But he's still from Two, all the way through.

"And since I've got authority, Shimmer and Katerina are just gonna have to stay in line, aren't they? So when the Bloodbath come along, I'll tell them exactly who they can and can't kill. You know what this means for you, right Adonis?"

I feel my ears lifting. Huh. This just got interesting.

"Yes, I do." He says. "You tell them to leave Kaja alone or they'll get kicked out."

Julian grins. "Precisely."

I throw the little paper cup out and walk away.

I've heard enough.

It looks like Adonis and Kaja have a thing for each other.

Jeez. When did the Death Games suddenly turn into the Romance Games?

I check out the Center. Thankfully, the water helped clear my head a little. The Plant Identification station is full, as always. So is the Medicinal Plant one.

At Animal Skinning, Cadence and Casper, the two guys my age from outer districts, skin squirrels. Then, Cadence gets up to go to the restroom.

Animal Skinning? Oh, why not? If it takes my mind off it all, it's better than nothing.

I go to the trainer who sets me to work with a sharp rock and a pocketknife and a dead squirrel. Apparently, I have to pull the skin off until I can see all the organs.

Well, if my stomach wasn't queasy before, it is now.

Suddenly, I turn my head and there's a little girl beside Casper.

It's the one from Three. She's so small, I bet I could pick her up with just one arm. Even though my arms are shaky as heck. She has short, curly blond hair framing her face and enormous brown eyes. Kind of like an owl. Her eyes follow Casper's moves as he cleans and prepares his squirrel.

He nods at her.

"You're pretty good at that." She says. Her voice is pretty hoarse.

Casper shrugs. "Actually, I don't think I've ever done anything like this before."

The girl smiles. "Well, that's even more impressive."

He looks at her small fingers, nimbly pulling skin off. "You're not so bad yourself."

She grins.

"You've been shadowing me, haven't you?" Casper asks suddenly.

The girl turns even paler. "Sorry. I just thought….I dunno. I just thought maybe you and Cadence would want me for an ally." Her voice drops considerably, so that I can hardly hear it from my spot a few feet away.

To my surprise, Casper nods. "Yeah. We could use all the allies we can get. The more, the better."

"I'm Aya." Aya sticks out her hand for Casper to shake. At that moment, Cadence walks over.

"Looks like you've found us an ally, Casper." He says.

"Yeah. But Aya, why us?" Casper asks.

Aya smiles a little bit, only showing the corners of her mouth. I notice that there's a bit of a rattle to her breathing. Is she sick or something? "Well, I thought you both kind of reminded me of my older brother. And Casper, I saw on the television that you have a wife who is pregnant, so I thought you might be a little less…harsh."

Casper laughs. "Yeah, you got that right! Elorica turned me into a damn softie!"

But his eyes aren't smiling at all.

He misses that Elorica girl, I can tell.

And suddenly, I realize that this Games has taken something from everyone here.

Aya was taken from her brother. And it looks like she won't be able to fix that rattle in her chest anytime soon. The Games took Julian away from his girlfriend.

Jimmy over there won't see his little sister anymore. I saw her picture on the television, too. They were doing a mini-special on our families. The poor thing was crippled, but smiling and telling Jimmy to hurry home.

Man, this thing even took away a guy from his pregnant wife.

His baby!

There sure are a lot more important things than morphine, that's for sure.

And those things are even more painful to be ripped away from.

**Anna Corinna's POV**

Ah, such a disappointment this has turned out to be.

These are all such sorry excuses for tributes.

Of course, that means less competition for me.

It isn't the same though, sadly. It will look less amazing when I win. Not as impressive.

For what would it mean to win against druggies and misfits? Or the retards and crazies? Or a sickly little girl?

There are a few that would make for a noble fight for me.

Adonis, the boy from One, looks strong enough. Julian from Two could be a formidable competitor. While initially I was put off by the fact that he uses daggers, rather than larger, stronger weapons, I did see that he wields them incredibly skillfully. Enough to give that Shimmer girl a tough time.

Now, some might call Shimmer pretty.

And I would not be jealous. She may be pretty, but I am stunning. She has fair, blond hair. While mine is a deep raven color. Far more striking for the paleness of my skin and the redness of my lips.

Red. A color I will be seeing a lot of shortly.

Red as roses. The president likes roses. I know that. I think I heard it from my father once. Snow has a whole garden of them.

Good. I like roses too.

Like my onyx ring, which holds an intimidating, fixating sort of beauty, so am I entranced by roses.

They do remind me quite a lot of myself.

For everything beautiful has its thorns. My, oh my, don't I come with plenty of those? Perhaps a foolish one would be entranced by my looks. Hah! Oh, how I pity them. Should anyone venture too close…prick. One would be all it took. A little, perfect bead of blood.

For after all, no rose is without thorns.

But what many do not realize is that such laws of nature work the other way, too. So too, is no thorn without its rose.

Everything good must come from something hard. From blood spilt.

And so too, must peace.

In order for peace to come at all, there must have first been war.

Yes, I can see the President's logic quite well. It is a mystery to me why others cannot.

I think of all this while making my trap. Yesterday I spent most of the time with weapons. Today though, I was thinking of a backup method. So, now that lunch is over, I've set to work learning how to ensnare my competitors. And, as it turns out, it is something I think will be rather useful. If nothing else, it is something I enjoy.

I feel so powerful doing it! I am the hunter and they are the prey. They are nothing more than animals to me. With this I have the upper hand, no doubt.

Oh, what kind of fear could I evoke, with the right kind of trap?

It's all just a game after all, ins't it? A game of hunter and hunted.

And everyone knows what part I am playing.

I tie some knots in the rope, forming a circle. That's where the ankle goes in. Whoever gets trapped will be shot up and left hanging by only a foot. It's one of the simplest snares to make, but I still feel some sweat forming on my brow. Making the knots takes patience, but it's all to a goal. A goal I will most certainly be reaching soon.

I tie another knot, grinning confidently at its completion.

But there is something going on where the Career pack stands.

It has grown since I last saw them. Along with the original Career districts, Jace from Three, Katerina from Five and Gavin from Nine have also joined.

Now, the girl with the scarlet hair, Velvet, from Eleven is talking to Julian.

They shake hands.

Velvet goes off with Katerina and Shimmer.

How curious. There seem to many who possess more talent than I originally thought. But they seem to be coming from the most unlikely of districts. And so, I never saw them coming. Dear, oh dear, I really must be more observant.

Predators observe their prey quite extensively, after all.

They need to know when the right time is to attack.

But what an odd little bunch the Career pack is, isn't it? The boy from Three is enough of an oddity himself. He's muscular and good-looking, where most of the young men in Three are skinny weaklings. Gavin from Nine is very much the same. His arms ripple with muscles. Ah, they must be from using scythes.

There. I can make rather good observations after all. Soon, I will be such an adept predator.

Girls from Five in past games have made no effect on me at all. Bloodbath all, for sure. Shame, such pretty blood spilled.

Katerina's, on the other hand, may not be so easy to spill at all.

And as for Velvet, well, I've never heard of a Career from Eleven.

It seems to me like many of us here break the mold our district has so strictly, yet inadvertently, set for all of us.

I sit back to think. Now, what will I do about a pack of this size? Think, Anna. There is a vast amount of knowledge up in my head, I know that for sure. I will think of something. So what is it that predators do when they spot a herd? Do they go for one, or shoot for it all?

Well, stealth is of the essence. It is imperative.

I say one at a time. And doing so in a way that will shock not only the actual members of the Career pack, but also the audience out there as well.

Mustn't forget that I am being watched at all times, hmm? No, no that wouldn't do. I have to play up the entertainment. Yes, capture everyone's interest.

Hold them right in my palm.

No one will ever forget my name! No, not ever.

"Forget." What an awful word that is. Many drop it casually, having no idea what it could mean. They do not know the deep, inky blackness it implies. The horrible, dark abyss the threatens to swallow all.

It is something to be grateful for that a word such as "forget" will never be used in a sentence that also holds my name in it.

Daddy would be so proud, wouldn't he?

That is much of the reason I am here in the first place, isn't it? I am here to make Daddy proud.

It is a hard task indeed. Well, it used to be hard, anyways. For the man was never impressed. He ignored me the way one might ignore a pest. Like a rat. Inhuman. Ignoring someone is the worst punishment there is, I theorize. Yes, a cruel punishment. I couldn't do anything that would make him pay attention. Make him look at me. Really, truly, look at was nothing I could do that was big or elaborate or remarkable enough for that to happen. Nothing…unforgettable.

But here I am now!

And it is true that there is nothing bigger or more elaborate or more remarkable than what I am doing right here, right now.

There is nothing more unforgettable than winning this thing.

Not only will my name be on the lips of every citizen in the nation.

It will be on my father's lips as well.

Oh, and my mother will boast! My, will that make her already prideful chest swell even more. Alessandria Corinna loves nothing more than to have something to boast about.

Heaven on earth, that's what it will be.

Unfortunately, there must be quite an extensive amount of blood spilled in order to achieve any of that at all.

But not to worry about. There is very little I worry about at all, actually, when it comes to killing. It is necessary. Pure, white blood for the sake of peace for others. The Capital gets what they want. What they want must always be done. So too, I get what I want more than anything else that can be fathomed at all.

I want to never be forgotten.

By the blood of all the children in the room, I will receive immortality.

It is a flawless plan. A perfect plan.

I do believe the word "perfect" is my favorite word of all. Perfect implies that everything is right and just.

I finger the ring on my finger. It has become somewhat of a habit of mine to twist the thing when I feel myself deep in thought.

In fact, I have been so deep in my thoughts that I haven't even noticed the two who have decided to sit down beside me.

Howleen and her partner, Oak are deep in their own conversation.

That does anger me slightly. Why, they haven't even noticed me here. Usually, all the other tributes stay away from mr out of fear. They are frightened of me, as they should be. It is only smart of them to do so. After all, no prey just goes wandering into the hunter's path.

"So are we going to make traps to catch animals?" The girl asks Oak.

He nods. "Yeah, and maybe something bigger."

Howleen gasps. "Oak, you can't mean what I think you mean."

Oak sighs. "Yeah, I guess not. I just don't think I could bring myself to do something like that."

Well, good.

It would be terrible to have two of us setting traps for the others. The small Arena isn't big enough for two hunters.

If he really was going to set snares for the others, it would be imperative that I kill him first. Yes, he would no doubt be my first victim. And that would be a sad shame. Not because it would mean his death. I couldn't care less about Oak from Ten or his little lover. No, it would mean that there would be a change to my plan.

I already have my first victim planned out.

And I would not appreciate having to change that at all.

Because the person I have chosen as my victim is someone absolutely no one would expect. This person has potential. Yes, it would be quite a shock to see someone like them die so soon.

But you see, shock is one of the best ways to keep an audience interested.

So, shock I will be doing.

No one expects it. Least of all, this particular person. This particular victim, rather.

The plan is coming together.

I smile to myself.

The snare is finished.

In more ways than one.

**A/N Visit the forum, pretty please! And thank you for all the support for this thing. I do hope Anna's chapter managed to scare you a little bit. Think you can guess who her first kill is going to be?**

**Can you guys include your favorite quote of the chapter in your review? Thanks!**


	21. Training: Day Three

**A/N I don't have much to say for this chapter. Just be remember to check out my forum and be sure to PM me if you have some new character ideas.**

**But there is something! Okay, so I don't know if any of you ever asked this question. "How come religion in general is never mentioned in the books?" I'm thinking that since it was totalitarian and all of that, religion was probably made "illegal." But that wouldn't mean that everyone just stopped, right? **

**Hopefully this should answer some of those questions!**

**Raen Croele's POV**

I pick at my food.

Today is the last day of Training. Which means that tomorrow is the day we'll be scored. And the day after that will be the interviewing broadcast.

And the day after that….

The scrambled eggs go down my throat in a thick lump. I gulp and take a swig of thick hot chocolate.

To my surprise, it wasn't hard at all to wake up this morning.

I just did it. It was the same yesterday and the day before that too. I thought I would be sad and slow and depressed. But I'm not really any of things at all.

More than anything else, I am worried. I must be a real coward, cause more than anything else I'm just worrying if it will hurt. It probably will. I hope it doesn't last long, that's all. I do know what comes after the hurt, though. In fact, I am more positive about that than anything else in the whole world.

When I was at the asylum, I used to have to drill myself on what was real and what wasn't.

Often, things I thought I knew for sure weren't for sure at all.

There is, however, one thing remaining clear.

And that is that there is something after this.

Some days it's gotten harder and harder to remember my family. The things we did together. The way Karma laughed or Brink smiled. The way my mother hummed while cooking or my father whistled while painting his furniture.

I do remember one thing that I won't ever forget.

We had a little wooden cross hidden beneath the floorboards.

That kind of thing was outlawed a long time ago. At least a hundred years, in fact.

But how can you extinguish something like that?

My mother used to take out the little cross after the sun set. The curtains would all be drawn. Karma would put her arms around me and rest her chin on my head. And I would giggle because her hair always smelled like wood shavings. Brink and Dad would smile at each other and start humming the same tune they did everyday. And then, my mother would whisper stories to us. Not just any stories either.

Stories about a place beyond.

She told us they had been told to her by her mother, our grandmother, who used to do the same thing. Every night, they too would bring out a cross and tell stories of Him.

And my great-father did the same. His father was a very religious man who wouldn't stand for his religion being taken away either. In the dead of the night, he would tell of times past when religion was something nearly everyone had, to some extent. He told these so it would never be forgotten that there once was freedom.

I don't think he ever knew how very true his prediction would be.

Mom used to tell me that were others like us. Those who kept ratted books with messages from above or other little crossed or ripped and torn prayer shawls hidden under floors and in cellars.

We were not alone.

I grind my teeth.

India looks at me strangely from across the table. Like the way a puppy looks when it's confused.

She can't even guess the pain I suddenly just got.

Because I can't remember a single word to that song Brink and Dad used to sing.

I know it was about a place called heaven. But what did it say about that place?

Damn.

I rack my brain for answers all the way down to the Center, but find none.

It is gone.

India merely looks sympathetic to me. She wears the same outfit I do, but it's a little too big on her tiny frame. Her black hair is pulled back in a braid, like always. Her black, bird-like eyes dart back and forth in her head. When we first arrived, she had what Esther would call an "episode." It was actually pretty scary. She moaned and touched everything, tears falling down her face. Every strange thing she touched made her cry harder.

She moaned for her family.

Now she's much better. She still touches everything, but now a curious, lopsided grin forms on her face. She bounces up and down at all the strange sights.

India has simply forgotten how to be sad.

I wish it were that simple for the rest of us.

"Raen is sad, yes?" She says softly. It comes out a little strange, but I can understand.

I try to hide the surprise that she actually knows my name. I've seen kids like her in the asylum before. Usually when they surprise you it's quite unpleasant. But India does seem a little more in-tune with some of them. She could almost remind me of Mouse, how she often doesn't talk.

I shuffle a little. "Yeah. I'm a little scared." I pause, then think better of it. I don't want India to remember how it feels to be sad again. Let her have her peace. I think I've almost reached mine, anyways.

"But it'll be a lot better soon." I add.

India doesn't question what I just said. She only nods. "Yes!" She grins. "Yes, yes! Raen gets it!"

I stare at the metal hallway around us. "Uh…gets what?"

"Always better." India nods enthusiastically. "Always better. Don't be scared."

She races ahead and pulls open the huge metal double-doors with a surprising amount of strength for her tiny arms.

Man, the kid is right. Even if I didn't understand that first part at all, she's right that I shouldn't be scared.

Maybe I will be able to see my family soon. Not the distorted visions of my family I get.

I haven't been getting those since we arrived. The shock of being here occupies my mind, still.

But I will finally see them in their true forms again. In the place called heaven that we used to whisper about when the stars came out and the candles burned low. The place we used to sing about long after everyone else gave up on finding things to sing about. The place we used to talk about, even though it seemed everyone else had gone silent.

I don't have to be scared.

But not just because of that.

I have an ally.

My mentor was very proud and surprised when he heard. After all, I was just another "crazy" from the asylum. How could I even talk to the others, let alone find an ally?

An ally, who, need I say, is a girl?

My heart quickens a little. It's just the way she talks to me. Like I'm completely…normal. Beyond normal, even. She treats me like I'll be some help to her.

I spot her right when I walk in, and she comes to stand next to me.

"Hey, Raen." She says.

"Hey, Thorn."

"So where are we headed today?"

I scratch my neck. "Huh. Um…how about fires? That seems useful enough."

Thorn shakes her head. "We did that yesterday. Besides, fires will lead everyone right to us. We really don't want that. I say we try out something new. How about the Obstacle Course?"

I don't see the point of that one, really. But that isn't the point. It's a diversion to us, that's all. We're just distracting ourselves from the inevitable, anyway. Anything that can take my mind off it all is appreciated. Even if that does mean getting swung at by heavy objects and risking hitting my face on a metal bar.

I follow her stiffly.

Thorn immediately begins talking to the instructor, but I find my own mind wandering. It is a wonder to me how Thorn manages to remain so focused.

She jabs my shoulder with one of her long, spindly fingers. "C'mon, Raen. What are you doing just standing there? I think I'm gonna do this thing."

I shrug and give her a little smile. "Go for it, Thorn. But make sure the Careers aren't watching. I don't know. I just don't want their attention for anything that we're doing."

Thorn nods, then faces the Obstacle Course. It's composed of swinging bars, moving platforms, and poles covered in rubber being swung at you. It's supposed to help you learn how to dodge weapons in combat or duck obstacles when running from something.

It just looks intimidating to me, though.

Thorn raises herself up on her tiptoes, then takes off.

She's not half bad at it. Her long, lean legs propel her through the thing lightning fast and her nimble fingers can easily grip onto things. When it comes to the large wooden wall at the end that she has to propel herself over, she clears it easily. Mainly because of the fact that she is so boney.

She rounds back to me, panting slightly.

"That was really good." I say to her.

She grins. "Really? Of course, I could do better. That pole that was swung at me grazed me shoulder." Her face turns serious. "If that was one of Julian's daggers or Shimmer's spears or those swords Adonis uses, I could be bleeding pretty hard right now."

I frown. "Don't think about that. Besides, even though I'm sure it isn't much, I'l do my best to make sure that doesn't happen."

Thorn nods, then gives me a sad little smile. "I have an ally, that's all that counts. I didn't really have any of those back home."

I laugh a little. But only a little. "I didn't have too many either."

When Thorn and I go to get water, I wonder about Birch, Esther and Mouse. What are they doing now?

It's lunchtime, or around that, at the asylum. Birch would be glued to the screen, watching every show on air that has anything to with the Games. He's waiting for a mention of me. That I'm okay.

I don't know what Mouse does all day. She wouldn't be eating much, that's for sure. Probably picking at her food the same way I did this morning, waiting for someone to talk to her. Birch won't talk to her, as he is too absorbed in the television.

God knows what Esther is doing.

They've probably still got her locked up.

Only because she's so upset and angry over all this. Over all that happened to me.

Poor girl. What did she do wrong?

The universe sucks. That's all I have to think about that one.

Why is it that some kids have to be forced into this? Why is that this even exists?

How is it that some kids are perfectly normal? And some are just born more misunderstood than crazy at all?

"What are you thinking, Raen?"

I meet Thorn's eyes. They go right into me. She's demanding an answer. The girl can be pretty assertive.

"I was just thinking about my friends back at the asylum. How they're all misunderstood, more than crazy. Of course, to say we're just misunderstood isn't right either. We're all pretty psycho. I mean, Birch has screaming fits out of nowhere and Mouse is completely mute. And Esther…man, she's just so far gone there's nothing anyone can do. As for me…"

"Raen." Thorn says sharply.

"What?"

"Raen, you're not as crazy as everyone says you are." Her voice is harsh and commanding.

"How do you know that?"

She folds her arms and lifts her chin defiantly. "Cause I just know, that's how. You're eyes are clear and so is your mind. It just takes someone who is willing to open their eyes a little to see that."

Her words make my heart flutter a little in its place. "Really?"

"Really." She shifts her eyes. "Now come on. Let's go to lunch. I think we've attracted the Career pack's attention."

Her wispy brown hair is falling slightly out of her ponytail. She brushes it back with her long finger, sighing slightly. Those big, owl-like brown eyes take everything in. Everything. Because Thorn sees things that no one else can. Thorn is different. She is special.

And I think that maybe the universe didn't screw just this one thing up.

Cause I ended up with the best ally this thing has to offer.

It's like India said. "Always better." Always better.

I think I get it now. She meant that things will always get better. There is always hope for that.

And, I think, it also meant that most of the time, things are better than I take them to be. Something good came out of something this bad.

Because of Thorn, I'm just that much closer to finding my peace.

To not being scared anymore at all.

I can only hope I can do the same thing for her.

I will try. God knows it, I will try. Mark my words on that one. Cause she sure does deserve it. It's the least I can do.

"Yeah, Thorn." I say. "Let's go to lunch."

**India Gyfer's POV**

I feel good inside right now.

At first, I did not feel good inside at all. I was so, so scared. I wanted Mom. I wanted her so much! I wanted Daddy and my brothers.

But that was the past. And the past does not matter right now.

Because right now, I feel Together. "Together" is a very nice word.

I am surrounded by the other kids. Not all of them. That is Okay because I do not want to be around all of them. Some of them are scary.

Kaja tells me that I shouldn't even look at some of them. That does seem a tiny bit strange to me, but then, many things do.

Many things seem strange when it feels like you are living underwater.

At least I do not feel lonely.

Next to me, a girl who looks a lot like me sits. She is a friendly girl, even if she is a little different. She talks kind of funny. Not the kind of funny I talk in. It is just that she uses different words that I do not know and sometimes she shortens words and it can be terribly confusing.

But I Like her. Her name is Jezebelle, but she likes to be called Jezi and she is even smaller than I am!

Jezebelle chews her meat slowly. Just like I am always told to do by Mom and sometimes Bay, especially when he feels like I am being a Burden.

"So Kaja, are stickin' with Gav and me the whole time? Cause this whole thing ain't gonna be easy for any of us, is all I'm sayin' here."

I scrunch my eyebrows. Man, why does Jezi have to be so darn hard to Understand?

Kaja smiles at Jezi, even though I can tell that she is not in a Happy sort of mood. I think I have gotten quite good at being able to see this. I know that people aren't in Happy sort of moods when their smile doesn't really reach their eyes. Their lips are all stretched out, but their eyes are still so empty.

Empty is how I feel without my Family.

"Family" is a word that should be written really big absolutely all the time.

I am positive about that one. No exceptions.

"I will stick with you and the rest of my allies." Kaja says.

Jimmy is sitting next to her. I do not know Jimmy very well, but he does seem nice. Any friend of Kaja is a friend of mine.

The reason I like Kaja so much is because she acts like a Mom to me and to the other younger kids too.

She's our Leader!

It is strange that there are so many of us. There is Gav, who is very fast at running. Then there is Jezi, who is smart, but not the kind like the kids from Three. She just knows lots of stuff about how to survive and where to get food. She's helped me out at the plant station before. Of course, I was no good at that. But she was just Happy to have someone to teach at all. That's just the kind of person she is.

Jezi really, really likes to talk.

Sometimes I think Gav finds her annoying, but other times he just gets this really sad look on his face whenever he looks at her.

I Don't Get that. But then, I Don't Get a lot of things.

Raen and Thorn sit with us. They like each other a lot, I think. I can tell by the way Raen looks at her.

Many people back home thought I was useless. They thought I was just a cripple and not to mention completely stupid.

But I can Understand some things that many people can't.

I know when people are happy and I know when they are sad. I know when they are mad, or when they really like someone a lot, too.

And I also know a thing or to about the way someone looks when he or she is in Love.

So I am fairly confident in my knowledge right this very minute. Raen and Thorn are in Love.

That makes me Happy. I giggle a little and stare at my food. Oh, I am so Glad for them! Here they are in a place where it seems no one at all is Happy. Why is it so hard? Maybe they can take lessons from Raen and Thorn and me. I can sure teach some things. No, I am not stupid at all.

But Jimmy is giving me a strange look while I'm giggling so I try to stop.

Some times are better for laughter than others are.

This is not the time or place. I have yet to Understand why that is. Every one of the kids here seems to be lost in his or her own world. And those worlds must be very bad places. It is like they decided to block out the sun or something. They do not want to see smiles. They do not want to hear laughter.

They only want to sit around in the stillness and silence and badness of all their unhappiness.

Now that is sad.

I lean my chin on my hand. I can Think this through, I know I can.

Why are they so sad to play a Game? Games are fun.

And we have been Chosen. There is no better feeling in the world than feeling Important. I know that because I had never felt that before all of this happened. But now, I feel so Important it feels like my Heart has just grown wings.

It is like a little bit of sun right inside me.

My district wanted me here. They Chose me. And there are so many other girls in my district. I saw them all at the Voting. Yes, there were so many I actually remember feeling scared.

Out of all those girls. They wanted me.

So why do the others not feel the same way?

They really should open their eyes a little bit. Their districts have Hope in them. And isn't Hope one of the best and greatest words in the whole wide universe? When Hope is put into you, you have just got to do something special with it. You can't let all those people down. Cause their Hope is a special thing.

You have to try.

And try I will.

I have never Won anything before. So I cannot Understand why I was picked in spite of this. But that does not matter.

This is the very first time I will Win anything.

The first time is the most Important. The first time is the best. People remember the first time.

I will be remembered.

I can think of no better way to make my Family proud.

Even Bay will have a smile on his face!

Jezi taps me on the shoulder.

"C'mon India." She says with her funny little voice. "Gav and me are haedin' to medicine plants and that kinda stuff. We thought you'd might to like to come with us. We gotta learn all the stuff we can before the Games cause there won't be any food. We'll have to find our own."

"Okay." I say.

Gav is throwing his tray out. I walk over to him.

Well, limp is probably a better word for it. A bad thing from Angelman is the limp I have. I cannot run, which is a hard thing to think of. But one cannot be said for something that can never be had.

I throw my tray out, even though the walk over was a little bumpy and I think I spilled some things.

He is looking at Jezi, who has turned around and is heading out the door.

"Gav?"

He whirls around, obviously surprised that I Know his name. Why yes, Gav, I do Know your name. I stayed up all night watching the television. So I Know that Gav is actually short for Gavroche, but he would never tell anyone that.

"Why you look at Jezi sad?" I choke out.

I sigh with relief. There. That was not so bad. Okay, maybe it was a little hard. And I did not get the exact Result I was wanting to get. Some words were left out for sure. But that always happens. Like so many frustrating things about myself, I can slowly get used to it. I do not mind when things do not turn out like I Hoped they would. In fact, I've come to expect it.

Gav moves his feet and the tips of his ears turn red. Uh-oh. Did I make him sad?

"I, um, well I actually have a little sister. And Jezi kinda reminds me of her, that's all."

"Why?" I ask.

That is the one word I can say all of the time, no trouble at all. It is because I say it so much.

Mostly I ask it to Aven because he is like my Teacher. It is hard not having him around.

So, so hard in fact.

There are many things in this strange place that I Need to be explained to me. I do not Understand so much of it. Like why the people here all dress so funny. And not funny ha-ha kind of funny either.

And why do we have to Train for so long? Surely, this Game we are playing must be very. very hard.

I Don't Get why some kids play with very scary weapons. The frightening kids do that one, of course. It is just a Game! And they could really hurt someone with those things. I imagine it would really hurt a lot if one of those things went inside me. So I try not to think about it too much. Still, I really wish they would put those big, sharp things on the ground and not pick them up anymore.

Maybe Aven knows why everyone here is so sad all the time.

But Gav is getting ready to answer my question.

He smiles a little, which is very good. I have made some Progress with him!

"She talks all the time, just like Azalea does. That's my little sister's name, by the way. And she's Azalea's size, I'm sure of it. Yeah, Jezi's real small."

"Me too!" I say. Because I am small. Even smaller than Gav, but maybe Jezi's size.

"Yeah, you too I guess. Jezi makes me think of Azalea cause she acts like she ain't afraid of anything all of the time, India. Man, sometimes I wish I could act more like that. But heck, I'm only twelve. There's still some things I'm scared of." He shudders. "This is one of 'em."

I Don't Get what he's talking about, but saying the few words I did say to him has already made me tired. So I just don't say anything.

He stares at the door Jezi has just walked out of, while talking to Kaja and to Jimmy excitedly.

"I dunno, India." Gav says softly. "There's something about that Jezebelle kid. She just seems so young, you know? I mean, sure she knows more about plants than I do. But she still seems like a real little kid."

Now I am starting to Think about this. And I do Understand what Gav is saying. Jezi seems a little younger than he does, that is for sure.

Even if she does pretend to be so very tough all of the time.

"I Get It." I tell Gav. Because I do. I very rarely Get things at all. So that is something to be Happy about.

But Gav's face crumples.

Definitely not the Result I was wanting from him.

"Oh Jeez!" He buries his head in his head, a mop of shaggy hair falling into his dark face. I peek under and see that tears have left even darker streaks.

"Gav?" I whisper.

"I-I-It's just I'm so scared for 'em! For Azalea and for Olive and Lily and Willy and little Basil. And for my Momma too! My Momma most of all!"

No. No, Gav is getting this all wrong. I have to Explain this to him. I have to be the Teacher. Yes, that is what I should do. I can help him, just like Aven helps me all the time. I clear my throat. Okay, all I have to do is find the words. They are in their somewhere. Then, I will push them out of me and Gav will Get It.

"Gav." I say. "Mom Happy for you. Not sad. There always is sun. Alway better."

The little sun right inside me starts to glow. There! I helped him. That is a good feeling. And I got all the words out too.

But once again, it is the very opposite of the Result I wanted.

Instead, Gav's eyes cloud. Like a blue sky that just turned gray.

So that means a storm is coming.

He clenches his fists and glares at me.

And I feel like I am shrinking a little way deep down on the inside. The sun is fading fast.

"Happy?!" He shouts. "How could anyone be Happy?! You don't know anything at all, do you?"

I am frozen.

Gav shakes his head. "I should have known better." Tears are in his eyes. "You're only a Retard."

Oh, no. Oh, no no no. There is that terrible word again. I Hate that word so much. So, so much. I thought I was done hearing that word. I really, really did. I was Chosen. I am the one my district has Hope in. I am not useless. I am a somebody.

But I do not feel so bad about this one at all, actually.

I only feel bad because Gav is crying so hard.

"No cry." I plead with him. "Please." I say, with every ounce of effort in my brain and in my mouth.

"You just don't Get It, do you?"

I only shake my head. I do not know what else to do.

"We're going to die, India." He says through clenched teeth. "You and me and Jezi too. I can't save her. I will try my best, but I can't. And that's why I'm scared for my Momma. Cause her oldest son is going to _die. _I can't run no more, India. And you can't run at all."

No.

He is not right. He cannot be right.

Gav's voice drops to a whisper. "This is how the Game is played. Everybody has to kill each other until one person is left. That's it. That's all there is to it. It's kill or be killed. It looks like the first for me and definitely for you."

That is how it works?

My face drops.

_Dead. _

The word makes a hollow thud into me.

No more seeing Mom. No more Dad. No more Bay or Aven.

That cannot happen. No, that will not happen. He is wrong.

I have not been Chosen at all.

I've been killed.

**A/N Please make sure to put your favorite quote of the chapter in your review. You guys are great!**


	22. Sessions and Scores

**A/N This chapter will be a little bit different than the last three. There should be more dialogue and a little less mention of the other characters. But it will all come together, no worries! So, back to Casper, who has one of the saddest stories I've ever read, let alone written for. So I will try my best, people! And then we have Keira, who is completely determined not to make her story a sad one at all.**

**Casper Monroe's POV**

I stare at the wall of buttons.

Which one? What do they all do?

The showers at the Training Center downstairs are much simpler and more like the ones at home.

I've been putting off using this thing for a while now.

Can't say I blame myself. The thing looks more like something found an a spaceship than a shower, anyway.

But I have to make myself presentable for the Gamemakers.

I never imagined how hard it would be just to do normal, everyday things like waking up and taking a shower without Elorica here.

I never knew how much I've really needed her. The bed feels so cold without her next to me. The room here seems so much larger now that I'm alone. I can't wake up to the smells of her simple cooking anymore. I can't braid her hair between my fingers or rub her back when she's tired. I can't feel her small hand that laces so perfectly into mine.

Most of all, I want more than anything to feel the baby kick again.

Closing my eyes, I push a few random buttons until water comes out.

Freezing cold water, that is.

I let out a muffled scream and turn to another button as quickly as possible. The water actually changes colors. It goes from an icy blue to a warm, pinkish red.

The scent of roses, soft but heavy at the same time, fills the shower.

Elorica would love this.

It would be the perfect way for her to relax at the end of a long, hard day for her. She could just breath in that scent of roses. I've never been able to get a rose for her. I know, I hear that they are the ultimate symbol of love. But it's just a flower. And an expensive one at that.

District Eight doesn't have any flowers, anyway.

I would give her this whole room in a second if I could.

There's a machine in the corner that makes food appear with just the push of a button. Real, delicacies from this place.

Oh, and that bed. The silk sheets and beautiful fabrics all intertwined on the shimmering blankets. There are so many pillows, I have to throw off a bunch of them to get to sleep. And it's the most comfortable thing I've ever slept in.

Well, it would be made so much better if Elorica were only here.

Everything is better with her.

The thought of her all alone in our tiny quarters with Baby Star drives me mad.

So I push the buttons until the stream of water stops coming.

I hate this. I need her. She needs me. And we're both so alone.

I know that my hatred for the Games can only mean danger for me. Even more dangerous is my hate for all things in the Capital. I can't help it. If they are responsible for leaving Elorica alone and little Star without her father, they deserve every bit of boiling blood in me.

But I know what happens to those who rebel.

It isn't like my allies are silent, either. Aya is doing the best she can. She knows that the Capital holds the key to her survival, in and out of the Arena. Should she win, she would be able to get a lung transplant and be good as new.

I don't know anything about her illness, but I can see that it looks like her time is running out. Fast.

Cadence, on the other hand, is like a storm cloud at any mention of the Capital. His eyes fog over and his fists clench up. Even his jaw gets tenser.

He's like a time bomb.

I put on the simplest pair of clothes I could find in my seemingly endless closet. It's surprising just how many outfits in there don't involve enormous bird feather or gaudy rhinestones or flashing, neon colors.

I've settled on a pair of clothes remarkably like the ones I wear every day at home. Except about ten times more expensive.

Breakfast today should be eaten quickly. I've got my assessment coming up shortly.

The walk over from my private quarters to the main eating area is lined in plush, orange carpet. The carpet sinks beneath my feet, which are in the simplest brown shoes I could find. The hallway has some pictures of past presidents on the wall. Of course, that only means the last five of them. The post apocalypse ones. They stare down with icy eyes. Unfeeling. No sympathy for an eighteen year old with a wife and little girl on the way.

The escort, Javier Mercurium and the Capital-appointed mentor, Thalus Waters, are already at the table. So is Keira. Though, to be honest, I haven't given her much thought.

"Casper, good morning to you." Javier says. "Grab some food and have a seat."

Thalus nods. "The biscuits are excellent."

Numbly, I grab a biscuit and some eggs and sit down.

No grits. Well, I didn't expect there to be.

I guess it's better that way. I would have made a fool of myself by bursting into tears at the sight of some grits, of all things.

"So what do you think you'll be showing the Gamemakers today?" Thalus asks.

Keira is the first to answer, of course. Though she is about Aya's age, the two have absolutely no similarities.

Aya is calm. Keira, on the other hand, is a fireball. She talks up a storm and gets angry a little too easily. My little ally is caring in nature. Keira seems to care for no one but herself and her ultimate goal of winning. Aya prefers to be with allies she knows will protect her. She chose Cadence and me because we were older and therefore stronger. But Keira chose hers because neither wanted to be protected at all.

"I'm gonna do some running. Oh, and some snares and animal skinning and knife-throwing."

Thalus raises his eyes at that one. " That last one could be a bad idea. You wouldn't want to mess up. Since when have you become an expert in knife-throwing?"

Keira smiles. "Since yesterday, actually."

Javier drops a piece of egg off his fork in surprise. "What?!"

"Violet taught me how."

"Ah." Thalus sighs. "Your little ally? A good idea, Keira. You two are very similar. Be careful though. How good is she with knives?"

Keira chews her lip thoughtfully before answering. " She's damn good, Thalus. She used to use 'em in the bayou. To get frogs and lizards and rats and stuff to eat."

I clear my throat. "Uh, you mean she ate rats and lizards?"

Keira's face turns serious. "Yes. She had to eat whatever she could find. It ain't pretty there, I've heard."

Javier shakes his head. "She sounds absolutely barbaric, Keira! What kind of thirteen year old girl is a knife-throwing expert? And to eat vermin like that?"

"One who wants to survive." Keira says flatly.

I guess the answer is good enough because neither Javier nor Thalus say anything else about Keira's ally.

Me, I'm worried about Keira. I can't help it. It's like some kind of "fathering instinct" set in as soon as I found out about Star. Normally, in this kind of situation I would force indifference for Keira. There is nothing I can do. A young girl will lose. That's just how it goes. But I'm anything but indifferent. I still want to protect Keira, even though she is certainly not an ally. Her or her barbaric bayou friend.

"And what about you, Casper?" Thalus asks.

"I, uh, well I'm gonna make a fire. And skin a rabbit or something. I mean, I found that I'm okay with a bow. So I'll do some of that too."

"Archery, huh?" Javier's eyes widen. "Interesting."

"I had to find something. It just looked the easiest. Of course, it's really not easy at all, but at least I can hit the target."

Thalus waves his hand. "Do what you have to do."

Javier glances at his watch. "And you'd better go now! I'm sure the kids from Six are just finishing up."

I glance over at the watch. 10:30. I sure slept in late.

Keira shovels the rest of her food in her mouth. Her finger quiver with a mix of nerves and excitement.

I can tell that there is excitement, too. But I can't for the life of me find out why. It could be adrenaline. Adrenaline takes different effects on everyone. There's something more though. I can see it the way her eyes are perfectly clear, while many of us have foggy ones, lost in sadness. I can see it by the way she still smiles every now and then. The way she's balancing on her toes right now, ready to race out the door.

There is something very, very wrong with Keira.

But I make no mention of it.

Thalus follows us to the elevator. His hands clasp around his golden wristband. He's obviously almost as nervous as I am. Why would that be?

Oh, probably something to do with his reputation. Eight is one of the least honorable districts to mentor. Thalus wants what any escort wants. To be promoted. I'm sure Javier feels the same.

I see him looking at us with an expression I can only describe as concern when the elevator doors close.

"Do you think we had a good escort?" Keira asks me once we're inside.

I shrug. "Yeah. Javier was all right." And that's true. He was.

"Violet told me she had a good mentor. Her own, in fact. They went over lots of strategy stuff. Violet told me everything. I mean, I'm set to go. I'm really ready for this, Casper. So's Violet. She told me so. Oh man, nobody's gonna see it coming." She smiles to herself. "Yup, I got everything planned out."

I blink. Keira's rambling shook a chord in me. "Keira, I hate to break it to you but you can't really plan for this thing."

Thalus clears his throat. "Yes, Keira. That's true. Just take everything one step at a time."

We disembark.

I turn to Thalus, suddenly desperate for help. "Uh, any last advice for us?" My voice takes on a pleading tone.

Keira turns away. Thalus's advice is useless to her.

"Do whatever you have to so you can get back home, Casper. Just do it."

I sigh. My girls need me. My girls. That's that I've been calling them. My stars, both of them. He's right. I have to what I have to do. Even if it means something totally against my morals. But I can't face that yet. I'm still holding onto the hope that I'll see my girls again.

Thalus sends us into a waiting area with a simple "Good luck." As if this is only a math test.

The waiting area turns out to be anything but extravagant. It's just some cold metal benches outside the Training Center. We're facing the huge double doors.

Keira broods over Thalus's last comment. Obviously she wants everything to go her way.

Suddenly, I can't hold it in any longer.

"Keira, why do you seem so excited for this whole thing?"

Keira doesn't look fazed at all by the question. She leans back on the bench so her back is touching the cold metallic wall. "It's not excitement, Casper. Of course it's not. It's just a desire to win, that's all. Yeah. I know I'm younger than most here. But not a lot. I hate my district. I mean, I really hate it. Eight is hell, Casper. The kids at school were so awful to me. I wanted to get out of there, and here is my opportunity."

"Hell?"

She snorts. "Yeah, well everything was all sunshine and flowers for you. Love does that, I guess. All cause you eloped with some girl you were forbidden to see. Then you got her all knocked up. Congrats on that, by the way."

My thoughts seem to freeze.

Keira rolls her eyes. "So not only are you leaving some poor girl to fend for herself, but you have a _kid! _Don't that beat all?"

"Keira, I never expected this."

She raises her brows. "Oh? Well I sure as hell did. Hey, tell me, why would anybody wanna have a kid anyway? That little girl's just gonna work in the mills and get her fingers and hair ripped out by the machines an' all that."

"It just happened, Keira. And we were really happy about it."

Keira doesn't say anything after that.

"I can't imagine being without Elorica." I say softly.

She shuffles her feet on the ground. "I bet everybody here is gonna feel real bad for you. That's a sad story, Casper. Me, nobody feels bad for me."

"C'mon, Keira." I pat her slightly awkwardly, attempting to make her feel better. But maybe, just a little bit, I can see that it's true.

"Sometimes I think the only reason I haven't fallen apart is cause I feel this is the only way to get them to care at all."

I don't even have time to answer this.

I'm called in.

The room seems especially cavernous today. There are no other people in it. No Careers talking loudly to each other at the weapons station. There are no groups of allies, whispering secretly to each other and pointing out those that could mean competition. There are no weak or small kids, cowering in the corner and trying not to be noticed. No one is here at all.

No one, of course, but me.

And the Gamemakers on a balcony above.

The smells from the foods they've been eating drift and float around me. I'm not fazed, though. They don't look it, either. They pick at the food dully.

I am from Eight. And Eight has never impressed them before.

In other words, they are bored.

I sigh a little to myself. There's nothing I can do about that.

Might as well begin.

I go to make a fire first. Carefully, I pretend to coach the Gamemakers through it. I go on about which wood is best and how to make one with flint. I ramble about how to keep one from going out and how to get one to not smoke as much. Which types of sticks go on bottom. And which goes on top.

I've coaxed a pretty nice flame after just a few minutes.

But if they weren't bored before, they certainly are now.

I head over to skin a rabbit. There are several just lying dead on a table.

I have to save archery for last. Weapons should always be last. Even if I just learned how to shoot three days ago.

Skinning is easy.

It's over too fast for my comfort, anyway.

Because now I have to go do why I've been putting off.

I walk slowly over to the archery station. This time, I seem to have their attention. Of course. To them, only weapons are interesting. And, though I hate to admit it, they are by far the most useful skill. Will it be a shock for Elorica to see me wielding a bow? Yes. Do I have to do it? Yes.

I have to show her that I am fighting.

Star will never feel like her Daddy didn't at least try. Her Daddy was a fighter. And he fought for her.'

So I grab a bow off the rack. It's the same one I've been practicing with. I hoist a quiver of arrows up on my hip.

This won't be easy.

But what is?

So I gently grab an arrow with just my two fingers and position it. I grab onto it for my life.

The target is right in front of me. I can see the red circle outlining the heart. Clear as day. It stand completely still. Waiting. Waiting for an arrow to it. Hit it at all, if I'm lucky.

I draw the arrow back.

And release.

To my utter shock, it hits dead center.

Right in the heart.

**Keira Thyme's POV**

From what I can tell, Casper's session went well.

He comes out with his head held high. Well, there's a new one. Usually he's looking so lost in his own world.

I mean, okay you have a wife. But snap out of it! How's it gonna help her if you go around looking sad all the time? But for once, he's actually not doing that.

Man, what did he do?

He nods at me, so I jump out of my seat to go in.

Here's what I've been waiting for.

Okay, Keira. Think this through. You have a plan. Go in there looking strong. Confidence is key.

I'm going to run the Obstacle Course first. Running is something I know one-hundred percent that I can excel at. Then I'll just make a simple snare I picked up the other day. A real helpful one that'll send someone caught by their ankle. And then, for the finale, throwing knives.

But when I think about that last part, a little flutter starts ways deep in my gut.

Can I really pull that off?

So instead of walking in looking calm and collected, I walk in shaky and clammy. The thought of those things in my hand is scary. Shoot. And I've always seen myself as a tough person. So what's a little blade?

Everything. That's what it is.

I can't help but gulp.

They peer over the railing. Robes hang from their arms, deep purple in color. Wine glasses in their hands, half-empty. Eyes looking suddenly interested. No doubt, Casper somehow broke them out of their semi-drunken stupor.

How can I compare to that?

I will. It's as simple as that. Gone is the old Keira. That Keira, meek and mild, has been pushed away. The real Keira, hiding beneath, has finally had a chance to surface. Now, I have to give myself a chance. A chance to prove that there is more to me than meets the eye. Even though I'm small in stature, it means nothing.

Because I have something to fuel myself.

And in the end, I believe that is the key to winning this thing. The simple desire to do so.

I have to prove myself.

Abandoning all my worry bottled up inside me, I stride over to the starting point of the Obstacle course.

Fingers fluttering just slightly, I press the button that starts the time.

Ducking the swinging bars is easy. My slight figure makes it all the less challenging. One more point in my favor. Briefly, my dirty blond hair slips out of my ponytail but I don't pay it any mind.

Scaling the wall isn't tough either. Violet and I have been practicing. Of course, it would be made easier if I was taller. But my fingers slip perfectly into the cracks.

Crawling underneath wire finishes it all off.

When I straighten, I breathe a little sigh of relief. There. That wasn't too bad. In fact, it seems like just another day in the Training Center. I've barely even noticed the people on the balcony, scribbling in their notebooks or whispering to each other. They don't look too scary at all, really. Just snooty people dressed in funny-looking robes, that's all they are.

The snare part is a little tougher.

My sweaty fingers keep slipping. Adrenaline keeps coursing through me though, and in the end I finish slightly faster than I ever have before. The rope loops in a perfect circle to go around my opponent's ankle .

That's a good word. "Opponents." Makes it sound more like a game and less like life-or-death.

I wipe my brow.

Time for the really tough stuff.

The weapons section seems huge.

A rack of all kinds or bows lines the wall. Black, sleek and shiny. Not like the little wooden ones the people in Seven or Twelve use at all. Casper, surprisingly, tried archery. Another shelf to the right of that holds swords of all sizes. I picture Adonis seining those around like it's nothing at all.

Tiny daggers, curved cruel and deadly are to the left. A picture of Julian slicing away at a dummy effortlessly enters my mind now.

Spears. A whole dozen of them, in a circle held up. I bet Shimmer hit all the targets right in the heart when she threw those. They're as tall as I am.

There are a few scythes of various sizes, certainly just for the kids from Nine. Gavin uses those. And he's incredible. It's no wonder. He's probably spent his whole life surrounded by the things. That's the best thing a kid from the outer districts can hope for. To be familiar with a weapon. Occasionally, there will be archers from Seven, or pickax users from Twelve. There have been two or three of those, I think.

Maces. The weapons that make me shiver every time I spot them. Jace's huge arms ripple every time he picks one of those up. A little flick of his wrist means no more sunrises for me.

And finally, throwing knives. Katerina and Violet use those things os easily. They have an enormous spot all to themselves. It's no wonder. They're the most popular of all the weapons.

I can't fathom why. At first, they seem like the obvious choice I guess.

Let's be honest. For girls, big and tough weapons have never really been an option. The Games are a little sexist, but that can't be helped. Guys will be bigger and probably stronger too. Us girls will be a little more afraid to pick up a weapon at all.

Knives, though, seem almost feminine when compared to the rest of the wide array of brutal and primitive weapons.

Why not just give us guns and get it over with?

Oh, I know why. Entertainment value, of course. The thought twists my stomach into little knots.

I grab a little blade. No sense getting carried away here.

I'm so shaky from nerves, the stupid thing almost slips from my fingers before I can even get near the range.

Oh, c'mon. I'm better than this. I can do this.

I position the knife. Man, this always looked so much easier than it is. Okay, it isn't the toughest of weapons, sure. But it's tough to get good. But I don't need to be perfect, do I?

But perfection is intimidating. And I do need to be just that.

So I throw it without another doubt.

I'm almost afraid to look.

To my relief, I hear it stick to the target. Thank the skies above for that. If it had clattered off, I would have been the laughing stock of Gamemakers all year long.

I blink and focus in on the target.

Yeah, it hit. But not anything worth noting. The arm. Well, the arm is better than anything.

If I hit someone in the arm, it would be the cause of quite a lot of shock. A foreign object, and a sharp agonizingly painful one at that, is nothing to be scoffed at. My attacker would have to take the time to remove said weapon, then make a quick mental assessment of how much blood that draws. No doubt, whatever weapon he or she had would fall to the ground.

And I would promptly snatch it up.

So yes, it's not going to be fatal unless absolutely nothing is done. But it could be fatal if I was given the time to strike again.

I exhale just as a buzzer sounds.

"Keira Thyme, your time is up." A man with a nasally voice projects over a speaker.

Time's up.

I nod politely at the Gamemakers. That's that. even if just looking at them makes my skin want to crawl.

Man, am I glad my ally hates these guys as much as I do.

The doors seem so much lighter leaving this place than entering it.

It's the last time I will ever open those doors.

I can't really pinpoint how I feel about that.

Gavin James raids his eyes as he sees me walk out. He heaves a sigh and grinds his teeth. Tough-looking. A lot like Jace from Three. They're both allies. With the Careers, of course.

Violet and I talked about the Careers.

Violet hates them. She said it makes her blood boil just thinking about how there's going to be a Training Center in her districts. She says most of the Bayou Kids feels the same. "Don't wanna end up like that psycho bitch Shimmer." As Violet puts it. She can't stand Shimmer.

But there's another thing I can't do a thing about. What are we supposed to do, take 'em down? Maybe if we got everybody else's help and half the Careers were dead somehow. But only maybe.

So that's that.

Gavin's districts partner, an angular stick of a girl, sits next to him. Her face is even more pinched up than usual and caramel-colored hair keeps falling into her face.

Not a Career.

She gives me the slightest of nods before I go into the elevator.

Going up by myself is a little scary. But I'm Keira. I can handle it.

What would Grandma say if she were here right now? She'd probably launch into another one of her enormous speeches about how too much confidence is a bad thing just like too much rain is too. Or something "deep" like that. I miss that. I really do.

Dinner is short. It's clear that no one can hold in the nerves for tonight's broadcast. I don't think much of it.

Just focus on the food. Oh, the food.

There's lamb with all kinds of herbs sprinkled over it. Whipped mashes potatoes form a little hill next to the meat. Swimming in gravy. Little green beans float in butter. Tiny cherry tomatoes look just like little rubies. Only I'd pick these over rubies any day!

I almost sigh out of sheer pleasure.

_If I win, I'll be dining like this every night._

Well, there's some more incentive if I ever needed it.

Bet none of the kids at school ever had just a tiny portion as much food as I'm having tonight. Duroy Jenkins least of all. He's dirt poor. Probably working his fingers sore in one of those mills right now.

I lick the potatoes off my fork. Now they taste all the more delicious.

We've only reached dessert, a concoction Javier calls "creme brûlée," when Thalus decided to talk.

"Keira, how do you think it went?"

I try to look busy chewing my creme brûlée. Too bad it's just cream with burnt sugar on top. The heavenly stuff is done my throat in seconds.

"Uh, I think it went okay. I did like I thought I would. You know, went through all the stations I told you I would. The Obstacle Course was easy. I think the Gamemakers has interest. I mean, most kids from Eight don't even go near weapons. Isn't that right? So I got the "surprise factor" in there."

Thalus gives a little grunt of satisfaction before going back to his dessert.

I can't help but notice that Casper seems especially quiet.

Suddenly, Javier leaps out of his chair.

"It's time!" He shouts.

I sprint a hell of a lot faster to that couch than I ever sprinted in the Obstacle Course, and that's for sure.

Casper sits a little stiffly next to me. His eyes seem kind of vacant. Like he just had a huge shock or something. I hope it isn't something bad, even though he is competition. He has a baby at home, after all.

Javier flips the screen on.

An announcer and a man who is going to interview us come onto the screen. Both wear garish suits glittering and glistening. Suits that I bet were made in Eight. Suits some poor kid sweat and cried silent tears over.

The announcer clears his throat. "And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for! Ladies and gentlemen, the scores are in! I present to you, the official scoring of the tributes."

The first face to come on is Adonis's. His ice-blue eyes stare at the camera that must have been set up somewhere I don't know. He looks at it almost accusingly. A flashing "Nine" is next to him.

Thalus nods. "As expected."

Kaja looks much less harsh. She has warm brown eyes, very un-Career. Her dirty blond is in a ponytail and a few freckles are across her nose. She looks like an older version of me, almost. Next to her is a Seven.

Casper shuffles next to me and Javier scratches his chin. "How odd." Javier says simply.

And it is odd. Evidently, the look on her face is not the only thing that sets her apart from the Careers. A Seven? Who ever heard of a girl from One scoring that low? It really wouldn't be anything bad anywhere else. In fact, it would be an incredible score for someone like me. But her?

"She didn't train with the Careers, though." Says Thalus. "Went off with some boy from Five."

Next is Julian. His shaggy black hair almost block his eyes. Julian seems almost…sophisticated compared to most tributes from Two in the past. He thinks things through, from what Violet and I could see.

Another "Nine" is next to his picture.

No one is surprised.

Shimmer comes up next. I scoot to the edge of my seat a little. Now this I want to see. Nerves flutter in me. I always get a bad feeling when seeing her.

She scores a Ten.

Thalus lets out a whistle. "A Ten? Look at that one. Oh man, think we could have a victor here."

Casper and I don't even object. I know I'm just feeling limp.

Strong-looking Jace's picture shows up on the screen. He's exactly the opposite of what boys from Three look like. Muscular and blond, he belongs more in One than anywhere else. So does his score. He gets an "Eight" for swinging around those maces of his that freak me out so much.

Aya, his partner, gets a "Four."

Javier sighs. "Ah, the first low score of the evening."

Actually, I have the feeling there won't be too many more.

Jimmy scores a "Four" as well. Looks like Kaja didn't really pick the ideal ally, did she? Poor girl. Doesn't she know the importance of the voice she made? An ally must be exactly right. Not too low, but not too high either.

It's a matter of perfect balance.

Katerina worries me too. She's a Career now, too. Doesn't surprise me. Even though she actually can't be too much older than me, she stares at the camera in a way that makes her leagues older than I am. Brown, wavy hair frames her face perfectly. The little "Eight" next to her face is nothing more than something accentuating her already intimidating features.

Jake, though eighteen years old, scores an abysmal "Three."

I guess that's no wonder. He's always wandering around, looking slightly lost with glazed-over eyes. Poor guy. I give him about five minutes.

The unstable girl from Six, Anna, is another one to fear. But then again, why fear her? Yes, she scored a pretty intimidating "Seven," but she isn't mentally right. That fact's very obvious.

Any tribute who isn't all sane can be very dangerous, but very easy to fool.

Raen scores a "Four" as well. There is a pretty large gap in the scores this year, from what I can see. But in general, most seem to be doing well.

Except India. Poor little thing gets a "Two."

Nothing I can do about it. Nope. So why bother worrying myself over it? I have much, much bigger problems.

"And now, Casper Monroe from Eight." The announcer reads.

Casper stiffens.

"A score or Eight!"

Javier cheers loudly, raising his glass. Casper's stylist clinks his glass too, grinning widely. Even the Avox in the back of the room claps her hands.

"Casper, my boy!" Thalus claps his back. "Looks like you have a fighting chance of getting home to your little one, eh?"

And Casper smiles at that one.

But my eyes are glues to the screen.

"Keira Thyme….a score of Six."

Six. That's okay. It's bough to make the kids at home pause what they're doing. Six means I still have a chance. I'm not out yet. It's not high enough to get attention from the Career pack. But it's just high enough to raises some eyebrows as far as sponsors go. Six is good for me.

There's still plenty of time to prove myself, after all.

Gavin scores a Seven. It's a little low for the Careers. But we have to keep in mind that he's from Nine. Those are usually Bloodbath kids.

Usually.

Thorn gets a Five. Her eyes stick out from her head just slightly, as though she's seen something that frightened her. Most of the time, her brown eyes shift in all directions. I bet she's a runner, like me. I can just see that in her.

I can't seem to remember the boy from Ten's name. But he scores a Five as well. He has nice, sort of soft features. He's the one who's always with his district partner. Violet shook her head when she saw them together. Lovers don't last. His partner, Howl as I've heard her called, gets a Six. Same as me.

Maybe Violet and I can persuade the two of them to join our alliance.

Maybe.

Now that I think about it, these Games involve a lot of "maybes."

That girl from Eleven, Velvet, sure is a complicated case. With her pale skin and scarlet hair, she looks nothing like Gav. Gav, with his bright eyes and dark skin, scores a Five. Velvet, on the other hand, scores a Nine. A Nine. From her district? How confusing.

"She's gotten training." Thalus says through clenched teeth. "There is no doubt about that."

But how? Who could train someone in Eleven?

Eighteen year old Cadence scores low, just like Jake. A score of Four. But tiny Jezebelle manages to pull a Five. Her black eyes stare widely at the camera, almost in a pleading way. But a Five is nothing to be scared about all. Wonder how she did it.

It seems this year is full of little shocks.

Javier pushes a button and the screen goes black.

Casper is the first to leave. He retreats to his room, shuffling silently. Javier follows suit, yawning loudly and murmuring to the stylists about what a successful year this has been to him.

Only Thalus and I are left in the room.

"Keira?" He says.

I jolt a little in surprise. "Yes?"

"You're a fighter, Keira. Don't let that go. You've got something here to keep you going." He touches his heart lightly. "I can just tell. Now, I don't know if it's all good. But you make that your fuel. And don't let it blow out."

I nod.

The words from Grandma's poem float around in my head.

As soon as Thalus leaves, I pull the crumpled paper from my pocket.

_I will rise. I will rise. I will rise._

**A/N Hope you guys enjoyed that chapter! Whose score surprised you the most? Answer in your review! Thank you so much.**


	23. Interviews: Dark Flowers

**A/N This chapter is only the first of the interview chapter. So don't worry if your character still hasn't been mentioned! Hopefully up until this point I've given a little insight to all the characters, not just the ones whose point of view the chapter is in. Gavin's point of view is about preparation and by Thorn's view, the interviews should be starting.**

**Gavin James's POV**

The book on top of my head topples over.

I sigh in frustration. Here it comes.

"Gavin, what am I to do with you?" My escort, Yvonne Lux, clucks her tongue. "You can't do any of these things, that's what I don't understand."

I stare at the book on the floor. What's the point? I've been practicing walking right for the past half hour now. Nobody cares how I walk in. They just want to know if the content of my interview is worth listening to. What does it matter if I remember to cross my ankles?

Yvonne gives an annoying little cough. "Honestly, Gavin. It's like you don't even care."

I keep my mouth shut on that one.

"Thorn, now there's a posture! Why, she's rigid as a board. Just as stiff too." Yvonne gives a little disappointed sniff. "But the audience wants loose. Not tight! Poor thing's too tightly wound, isn't she Gavin?"

I settle into a chair, resting my tired feet. I haven't gotten much chance to rest at all the past few days.

At night, I don't sleep at all. Thoughts of my parents whirl around in my head, keeping up until the sun rises.

I keep picturing them alone. Both of their sons gone.

It's a terrible fate.

They don't deserve it. No one does, but them least of all.

Thanks to them, I had a happy childhood. As happy as one could get being dirt poor and practically starving. But Mom's cooking made food stretch so that my belly never seemed to rumble. She always made sure there was something. When I was very small, her lullabies would rose over the sound of my stomach so that I couldn't even hear it anymore. She washed the clothes carefully and wiped all the smudges off our faces. A good mother, through and through.

And my father worked harder than any man I've ever met.

He would take off long before I opened my eyes in the morning. By the time he got home, we'd long finished dinner. But he made time for Tosh and me. When Tosh was born, he bounced him and insisted my mother take a rest.

He would swing me around and lift me up and play catch with me. I remember he made me a little ball on my sixth birthday.

Good people, both of them. The best, in fact.

God, I miss them.

Yvonne is looking at me. Not just looking, but staring. She tilts her head. Her eyes have a swingy look to them. Wrinkles from squinting so much line next to the eyes like little lines. She purses her lips. Obviously, she thinks that I'm the odd one here.

I dig my finger into the arm of the chair.

I can't help it. The lady pisses me off to no avail. Makes me want to just lash out at her.

She's given me a lot of material to go off of, that's for sure.

But she already hates me. If it makes any difference.

Thorn suddenly slips into the room. Her big brown eyes seem even bigger than usual.

Who is it she allied up with? Oh right. The crazy from Seven. I heard on the television last night that Raen came to us straight out of a mental hospital. Wow. Real nice going, Thorn. Why couldn't she get a real ally? Not like I care. But you know. It's hard to see anyone die. Dying is dying, even if the dead annoyed you.

Maybe I do care. Just a tiny bit.

Thorn wrings her hands.

She's nervous. A score of five isn't bad, but it isn't great either. I guess I'd be nervous too if I was her.

"Gavin has to go to Aluma now." She says. "They're going to work on his interview angle."

Yvonne waves her hand, several gold bracelets dangling from it. "Oh, sure sure. Take the boy, for all I care."

And I breathe a sigh of relief.

Aluma is Thorn and my mentor. I was actually pretty shocked to find out that Nine had a victor. She won fifteen years ago. Of course, that was when Careers were just getting started and not all that much better off than the outer district kids. Aluma was sixteen when she won. Something to do with poison darts.

That figures. She doesn't seem the type who would use a scythe, for sure.

I catch a glance at Thorn when I walk through the hallway. She meets my eyes for a split second, then looks away.

I open the heavy door to Aluma's room.

She sits at a chrome desk, busily scribbling something down in a notebook. Black hair streaked with gray, even though she is just over thirty years old, escapes from her bun. Her tan face is weathered and wrinkled. She was a field kid. If I didn't know better, I would think she's still working in the field.

One can always tell field workers by their tan skin and dark hair. The kids have big black eyes and very red and chapped lips.

I've always looked out of place with my blond hair and blue eyes. I get those from Mom. Tosh had them too.

Strange as it is, Thorn looks just like a field kid with her tan skin and skinny figure.

Aluma looks up from her work and gives me a halfhearted smile. "Sorry Gavin." She says. "I didn't see you there."

I shrug and sit in a chair across from hers. The chairs here aren't very comfortable. More for style than anything, with their garish colors and odd shapes.

I miss the old armchair back home with all the stuffing coming out of it, covered in stains but the softest thing I've ever touched. Besides maybe the beds here.

She fold her hands in her lap primly. "So, let's get started. Do you have any ideas yet about how you want this to play out?"

I scratch my neck. "Uh, I was thinking of just going for plain and simple. You know, let my score speak for myself."

Aluma sighs. "Thorn told me you were arrogant. I do believe I'm seeing some of that know."

Arrogant?! Man, I hate that rat-faced girl. I bite my lip and clench my fists. "Don't trust everything Thorn says. She only says that because we've never liked each other." I say through a tight jaw.

She looks unsurprised by this. "I thought as much." She says angrily to herself. Then, she turns to scribble something in her notebook, obviously frustrated. Actually, she looks kind of angry. And maybe a little disappointed too. Her pencil scratches the paper.

I clear my throat. "I didn't mean to upset you or something. But that's just a fact. If Thorn scored higher than she did, I swear to God she'd kill me herself." I laugh lightly, trying to clear the air.

Aluma's eyes cloud over. I notice that they are grey. Not a very typical color at all back in Nine. Twelve yeah, but not Nine. That's weird. Maybe Aluma isn't just a typical field worker.

"This is serious, Gavin. You will not talk about death in any form like that under my watch, got it?"

I nod, a little surprised by the severity of her ton. Honestly, what does she care?

"We're both from Nine, anyway." I remind her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She demands.

"Uh, I just meant that kids from where we're from aren't really well trained for this. That's all." I stammer.

But she only leans back in her uncomfortable chair and looks around for a second. She sighs again and cross her arms.

"And here is where you're wrong, Gavin James." She begins. "Just look at your score. Seven. That is nothing to look down on and frankly, it is the highest anyone I've ever mentored has score. You're excellent with that scythe. Whether or not you did it consciously, you have been training for this."

My fingers pluck at a loose thread on the seat. Finally, something in this place that's falling apart. For some reason, that gives me a lot more satisfaction than it should.

It just reminds me of this whole thing. Here is the beautiful, elaborate city. A little island of paradise, really. Filled with technology beyond mankind's wildest dreams. Everyone here is exorbitantly wealthy and the food is always perfect.

But beneath the surface, it is another world entirely.

One only has to look beneath the painted-on smiles and velvet curtains. To open the thick mahogany closet or twist the gold doorknob.

This place is hell disguised as heaven.

Where else could people laugh and watch children fight each other to the death and call it entertainment?

"And what about Thorn?" I ask, a little more softly this time. "She scored a five. Only a five. What happens to her."

Aluma rubs her forehead. "It isn't of your concern, Gavin. Frankly, I don't understand why you're asking. You both confuse me to no end. You just love spinning me around in circles, don't you? One moment, you're off spewing insults about each other and the next you're all worried for each other's sake."

"Really? Thorn worries about me?"

The woman looks about ready to smack her palm to her forehead. "Oh, for God's sake. Here we go again."

My ears burn red.

She shifts a little in her chair. "The point I'm trying to get across here is that both of you chose not to be allies. And that's fine. But unless you change your minds, there's no sense in acting like you are allies. Get what I'm saying here?"

I nod.

"Good. The sad truth in the matter is that pity will do nothing but harm you in the end. I think you'll take that well enough as you seem callus enough. But for Thorn, that might be harder."

She's right. Thorn's always been way too concerned with the problems of others. Before, that annoyed me. But now….

I hear the door of our quarters open and a flurry of greeting coming from Yvonne.

Aluma stands up. "Your stylists are here!" She presses her hands together. "Luckily, I think you've got some good ones this year."

She practically pushes me out of the room, obviously glad to be rid of me. It's also obvious that she favors Thorn. I should have seen that one coming. Thorn just has that effect on adults. All our teachers loved her. And she had them wrapped around her pinky finger. Huh. Maybe that could come in handy for sponsors.

My stylist, a man who favors metallic colors named Capricorn, has laid out some pieces of fabric belonging to my suit.

Today, Cap as he is called, wears silver eyeliner and silver dye in his hair. That, on top of his silver suit, makes him look incredibly like a robot.

He sees me and purses his lips, making a "tsk" sort of sound with his mouth.

Well, if that's what my stylist is doing to a guy with a figure and muscle tone like I have, I can only wonder what Thorn's stylist is saying to her. And her terribly flat chest.

The suit is mostly black, which is good. There is a gold tie patterned like stalks of wheat and the cuffs and collar of the suit are also this pattern. I shrug the jacket on over a gold shirt. I figured there must be something a little garish to it. And the shirt, completely bright golden, does the trick as far as that goes.

I slip on the black shoes.

"Go on then, Gavin. Show us." A member of my prep team with a very high-pitched voice squeaks. I forget her name, but that doesn't matter.

"Yes!" Cap grins.

I turn around and hold my arms out. They all "ooh" and "ahh." And I have to say, it's infectious.

The suit does look really good. I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Hair slicked back, smooth metallic accents. I look good. Like, really good.

Good enough to win over some sponsors? Lets hope so.

I figure that there's no sense brooding and weeping over the fact that I'm staring death in the face. For now, there's nothing wrong with giving death a good punch in the face. I'm not going today, thank you very much! Not if I can help it. And the truth is, of course I can. And so can everyone else playing this game.

The only difference between any of us is that some have realized that and others still haven't.

I'm pretty sure Thorn has her eyes set on surviving too.

What I don't know is how she will manage to do that with a score of five.

Huh. I wonder what Aluma scored all those years ago.

Cap holds a pin in his mouth as he makes some adjustments to my slightly too-short black pants.

"Hey Cap?"

"Mmm-hmm?" He mumbles with the pin moving up and down in his mouth.

"Do you know Aluma well?"

Cap purses his lips and sticks the pin into the fabric. "Actually, Gavin the two of us are very good friends. We help each other get through this. Sure, it gives me a lot of money, styling the tributes. There's just one problem. My clients all die right after. It isn't easy on a man's mental toll, especially considering that all these dead clients are children."

"Uh-huh." I say thoughtfully.

"Yes, Gavin. Not all of us are heartless monsters. Aluma keeps me sane and I her. But why did you ask in the first place?"

"Well, I was kind of wondering if you happened to know what she scored."

Cap raises his silver-lined eyebrows.

Pausing for a moment, he gives me a very strange look. I can't even place it.

Finally, he clears his throat.

"Aluma scored a five, Gavin. She scored a five."

**Thorn Kingly's POV**

I finger the dress I'm wearing.

It's a pale green thing, stopping just before my knee. It sort of shimmers, the light green shifting. It's sleeveless.

And I hate it.

The light green color would be so pretty on anyone except for me.

It makes me look even more gaunt. Which, as everyone knows, I do not need. The clear, glassy looking heels I'm wearing are impossibly uncomfortable. The dress isn't very nice feeling either. But that's the price of beauty, my stylist Airebella tried to tell me.

Beauty?! Hah!

As if. It struck me as funny that she never acknowledged my sorry excuse for a chest or my knobby knees or even my stringy, unkempt hair.

Denial. What a terrible state to be in.

The young girl in front of me, Keira I think, wears a gorgeous sky blue silk gown that falls elegantly over her. Her normally average-looking hair with its dirty blond color looks stunning in a twist dotted with little rhinestones. She wears little heels and clicks them impatiently on the floor. The hallway, being metal, echoes the sound.

Casper stands next to her, muttering things under his breath nervously.

We're all standing in a line in this one long hallway. It leads to double doors, which open into stairs, which lead up to the stage.

When I crane my neck slightly, I can spot Raen. He's running his fingers through his hair and breathing nervously. Next to him, little India twirls her rose pink dress with its ruffled, flared out skirt. A little pink flowers adorns her usual long black braid. Raen keeps looking at her, like she's going to disappear.

Suddenly, Gavin nudges at my shoulder.

"Hey Thorn, Kaja just went on."

Kaja walks on in a lovely blue gown down to her ankles. I feel suddenly conscious of my own shorter dress. The dress glitters with dozens of little sparkles all over it. It looks just like the night sky.

She's quite literally glowing.

Her hair is in an elaborately braided bun and pushed back so her nice brown eyes can be seen. They've always had a warmth to them that I've never seen in any of the tributes at all.

Cassius Milan, the man who is interviewing all of us, gestures for her to sit in the orange chair across from his.

The camera zooms out to the audience, all dressed up in their best clothing. My stomach lurches straight up into my throat when I see just how many of them there are. Hundreds, at least. Probably more like thousands. They form a sea of neon colors and excessive makeup. Whispering to each other, taking diligent notes, or just chattering away. This is obviously the event of the year.

I swallow. How disturbing.

Grinning and waving, Cassius bring the roar down. He wears a vibrant deep purple suit. His hair is dyed a very dark shade of black. It looks very odd, but not as odd as some of the outfits I have seen. Not so much odd as slightly creepy, that's what it is.

"Welcome, Katherine Jasmine Thomas!" He shouts and holds up her hand.

She sits back down, her cheeks reddening. "Call me Kaja, please."

Cassius folds his hands in his lap casually. "All right then. Kaja it is. So tell me, how do you like the beautiful creation of a dress?"

Kaja smiles warmly. It's clear she's acting comfortable. And it's the best acting I've ever seen. "It's so perfect, isn't is?" She gushes. "It really is a masterpiece. This place never fails to amaze me."

Next to me, Gavin snorts. "Man, she's got the suck-up part down to a tee."

I laugh nervously. But I am laughing, so that's something.

The audience is pleased with her response. But Cassius isn't after simple gushing. He wants to get right down to the meat.

"Kaja, I've been hearing talk that you're a little different from the rest of the Careers. In fact, I've seen in training that you didn't want to train with them. Do you have no intention of joining the Career alliance? If that's really the case, might I ask why that would be?"

Kaja blinks. "Yes Cassius. That is true."

There is a murmur in the audience. A flurry of whispers rises up.

Cassius turns in his chair to shush them. He nods for Kaja to continue.

"I've never felt a connection to the Careers, other than the geographic placement of my birth. Yes, I am from One. No, that does not mean I am a Career. It's just that I've really seen the point of it, really."

Cassius looks shocked. Whether it's an act or not, I can't really tell. "Not seen the point? What does that mean?"

Kaja stares down at her hands, primly folded in her lap. "The meaning of the word alliance is when you can trust someone and work towards a common goal together. But it's the exact opposite in the Games. Of course, one cannot trust any members of his or her alliance. Too much trust, and your throat would be slit by dawn. That's even amplified with the Careers. I wanted to pick someone who I could actually trust."

"So you have an alliance, then?"

She nods. "I do, Cassius. I've chosen Jimmy from Five as my ally."

"That's very interesting." Cassius says slowly, as if trying out the idea in his mind. He plays absently with his grape colored sleeve. "A boy from Five. And now for the biggest question and one that I must ask you."

He pauses for effect.

"Well, get on with it then!" Kaja giggles.

The people roar with laughter. Kaja's warm attitude, even through her rather unorthodox explantation of her strategy, has made its way right into the people's minds.

Cassius lowers his voice. "Do you think you can win?"

Kaja clears her throat softly. "Cassius, I have two little girls who depend on me. Not getting back to them just isn't an option."

When the buzzer rings, the applause is thunderous.

Kaja just brought a new, fresh entertainment value to this thing. A rogue Career. A girl going against all the molds for a girl from her district.

Adonis calmly makes his way onto the stage next.

How is that all these kids look so collected? My very mind is cluttered and fraying and tearing at its seams just thinking of tomorrow.

Adonis glistens in a silver tuxedo. The effect is great and he's never looked better. Though he always was good-looking. In a very intimidating way, of course.

He settles into the chair with ease and grins at Cassius. "Happy to be here." He answers to Cassius's greetings.

But something very funny in the flat way he says it tells me he may not be. But that's impossible, right? No, he almost said it sarcastically. Yes, yes he did! That was definite sarcasm I heard in his voice. He's a Career, yet he shows distaste toward the Capital?

"Adonis, you scored very highly. What are your thoughts on that?" Cassius starts.

He laughs lightly. "Course I did! What are you, joking? I'm a Career. Can't score anything but high!"

Everyone has a laugh over that one.

But I see it. A little eye roll. Barely noticeable. It's there, though. And it speaks volumes.

The interview proceeds like this, with Adonis making very stereotypical Career comments.

The audience eats it up. What they can't see is that the comments are just too typical. He's treating this like one big joke. Like: how well can I fool these people? How far can I go with this joke until they notice?

Evidently, pretty far. No one seems to suspect a thing.

The camera cuts off and Adonis waves as he exits.

"Did you see all that?" I ask Gavin. "That whole thing was jut one big parody of the Games in general." So what if he doesn't answer? Or just tells me that I'm so obnoxious and I over think everything. At this point, I just want someone to talk to.

"Yeah, I saw it. All those sarcastic comments and eye rolls." He agrees, much to my surprise.

I scratch my neck. "Very confusing."

Casper turns around in front of us. "Adonis is a confusing guy. Every time Cadence, Aya and I try to figure him out, we end up lost."

"Does anyone know what he thinks of the Capital?" Oak asks from behind. Howleen faces him, waiting for an answer.

We look at Gavin, who is Adonis's ally after all. But he only shrugs.

But even if he did have an answer, we aren't paying attention.

Shimmer has just appeared on the screen.

She wears a short dress, shorter than mine. It's purple, with large rhinestone accents in the center. They form silvery flowers. She wears incredibly high silver heels and tons of silver jewelry. And, naturally, silver and purple elaborate lining on her eyes and cheeks.

"Woah." I hear Oak mumble behind me.

Howl jabs him with her elbow.

Shimmer's angle is pretty obvious. She's flirty and at ease with the audience. She giggles to them and tells them her "secrets," making a little "shh" sign with her fingers.

The secrets aren't much, though. Her mentor would never have her give too much away. But she does say that she has some feelings for a boy she won't name.

"Oh, come on now, Shim." Cassius says playfully. "Tell us!"

"Tell us! Tell us!" The audience chants.

Shimmer giggles and leans back against the seat. "Cassi, you are so persuasive! I still can't tell you, though."

The interview is over, but not a moment too soon. Shimmer's whole attitude during that was like ingesting spun sugar candy by the pound, then getting covered in glitter, and then sprayed with strong perfume. By the end of all of that, I really want to gag.

If Shimmer is all sugar and smiles, Julian is her polar opposite.

He comes out in a dark suit with a blank look on his face. He sits coldly across from Cassius.

"I've seen him with daggers." Oak mutters to Howl. The two are allies. Close, I think.

"He's not to be messed with." Howl agrees.

"The leader?"

"Hard to tell."

Leaders? No. No one can realize it. There are no leaders in this. There is no control. We are merely swimming around in an endless circular maze. A circle. No start, no end. Doesn't matter what they think. There is one leader, though. But it is none of us.

Julian's eyes are as cold and hard as the stone his people mine. They are forced, though. As if he isn't usually cold.

Playing tough.

Playing tough to play the Game.

My thoughts swirl around like tendrils on an orchid plant. They bloom every which way. I try to grab ahold of them, but they slip out of my fingers. Shaking, clammy fingers. Flowers keep blooming under my attempted clutch. Dark things and not pretty in the slightest.

I force myself to grab at them until I can once again focus.

"So Julian, what is your strategy for the Career pack this year?"

Julian sits back in his seat. "Well, Cassius, that's a good question. My strategy at the moment is too let a lot of kids in. I feel like in the past, mostly the pack didn't let anyone in. But I want to start something here. The more kids who would normally pose a threat to us who are now temporarily on our side means the less I have to worry."

He sounds intelligent. Intelligence mixed with weapons skills is bad. Very bad.

But I have something else. The element of surprise.

Dad's been training me for this since I was eight. I know how to use a dagger almost as well as Julian himself. It's just that no one will be expecting it.

Not with a score of five, anyway.

Aya drifts onto the stage next, like a little breath of fresh air.

She's dressed in a lovely white gown. It goes so well with her golden hair, framing her face perfectly in its short, curled style. Her tan skin glows under the whiteness of the gown. Pretty strapped sandals are under it. They have gold gemstones in them.

Casper eyes her. "She looks so nice." He whispers to himself. Sadly, though. His eyes get such a sad look in them whenever he looks at her.

"Hello Aya." Cassius says.

"Hello." She says softly.

The people in the audience are craning their necks to hear her. They want to know more about this sprite of a girl.

"Aya, let me say you look beautiful tonight."

She smiles warmly at him. It's a cute smile, with dimples at the side of her mouth. Even though I know she's older, she looks so like she could be the youngest one here.

"I love the dress. I have never, ever had anything like it before. Everything is so bright and happy here. I wish I could stay forever."

Cassius frowns. "Are you dreading the arena?"

She shifts in her seat. "Yes, I would say dread is imminent. But you know, I've spent so much of my life with this heavy dread in me that I don't think I've given myself enough time to sit in the moment and enjoy what's been given to me."

The audience lets out a breath. They're entranced.

"And has it been this in particular you've been dreading?"

At this moment, Aya suddenly breaks into a hacking cough.

Cassius freezes, unsure of what to do. Aya keeps coughing, holding up a hand to him as if to say she's okay.

Casper cringes.

Finally, the fit stops and Aya clears her throat. "Uh, as you can see I'm a little sick right now." She smiles again. "Actually, I've been sick for a while. I don't have too much time left, which is a scary thought. But I thought if I voted myself in, I'd be doing something worthwhile with my life. I saved another kid from this. Saving a like is the ultimate way for me to use up my short life."

"Awwww" Goes the audience.

I even see a woman grab a tissue.

The buzzer sounds.

"That was brilliant." Gavin says to himself.

Jace comes on next. He bears a startling resemblance to Gavin. He wars a blue suit. Blue is apparently the color this year.

Jace is no doubt different from the other District Three boys in the past. He's strong and wastes no time showing that. He basks in the glory that his high score brought him. He feeds off the applause the people give him. It is clear that he loves every minute of this.

He must have gotten no attention at all when he was a child.

Because now that he has thousands of people's attention, he can't get enough.

"Jace, you're a pretty surprising guy." Cassius says towards the end of the interview. "What make you most surprising?"

He laughs. "Ah, the fact that I'm not a weakling. So I say to the other tributes, brace yourself for a little surprise. I'm not like the others in my district. And thank goodness for that, let me tell you!"

"And is there a girl back home?" Cassius wonders aloud a little dramatically.

Jace nods. "Well, of course there is. She doesn't know it yet, but when I get home and she finds out how I feel about her, she's gonna have the happiest moment of her life!"

"Thank you Jace!" Cassius says as the buzzer sounds.

Violet walks out next, holding the corners of her purple gown. Surprise, surprise. Her stylist went with purple. But it is a beautiful thing. It flares out at her knees and has gold swirls all over it. The sleeves are just covering her shoulders. Violet wears gold flats and her dark, wavy hair is pulled into a bun with a single large curl going down.

She waves to the audience and holds herself up tall.

"And how are you right now, Violet?" Cassius begins.

"I'm doin' jest fine, thanks for asking. You know, I thought this would be a heck lot more scary than it is. I think I'm doin' pretty well." She talks in a very thick drawl.

"So you're from Four, Violet. I hear talks of a training center for future tributes being built there. Do you wish such resources existed during your time?"

Violet bristles. "No sir, I do not. I'm from the Bayou, mister. Even if there was a place like that, it would be in the main city and I couldn't possibly get there. What people don't realize is that Four is pretty huge and there are lots of different parts to it. Where I live, there ain't nobody who actually wants to go to the Games."

"Are you one of them, then?"

She nods. "Course I didn't wanna be here. But now that I am, I figure I might as well seize the opportunity. Lots of good things can come outta this. Like I can buy my big brother a house that don't flood all the time. Or good food."

"Is there not enough to eat where you live?"

"No sir, there ain't. But that's where I got my survival skills from! My daddy taught me how to throw a knife and that's pretty handy here. I know which plants to eat and which not to. And I'm tough as nails. So those other tributes better not get on my bad side."

When Violet's interview has ended, Keira stands proud, looking very satisfied with her ally.

"They better not." She mumbles quietly.

Huh. Whether those two young girls are a threat or not, I still have to figure out.

Markus comes on next.

His interview leaves more to be desired. But that is the point.

He's dressed in an understated black tuxedo, his black hair slicked back. He does look tough, but a little sad too.

I recall that he decided not to join the Careers, even though Julian wanted him.

Interesting. Very interesting.

"Markus here comes from a very big family." Cassius is telling the audience when I snap back to attention. "Can you tell us about that, Markus? How badly do you want to get home to them?"

Markus swallows. "More than anything else in the world, Cassius. I got this little brother Jakob who really look up to me, you know. I can't leave him to be the lodes brother. And there are all my little sisters. My mom already has one sick son, little Kai. He needs treatment for a blood problem and if I win, I think I could give it to him. I can't let her lose two sons."

"Very true." Cassius looks almost sympathetic. He probably doesn't care though.

"Plus, there's a girl I promised I would talk to."

The audience lets out a sigh.

"Markus, I here there are some very bad rumors circulating around you."

I turn to Gavin in confusion.

"Suspected murder." Keira turns to tell me, seeing the confusion on my face. "Violet told me. She's pretty sure he didn't do it and there's no evidence he did, really. Not hard evidence, anyway." She trails off. "But who really knows?"

Markus flinches. "Yeah, but I wouldn't trust them."

Cassius nods. "What do you want to say to our audience about yourself?"

Markus takes a deep breath. "I just want to say that there is more to me than meets the eye. And the same is very true with all the other tributes. All the kids I've seen here seem to have something a little mysterious about them. So I say, look twice. Some of these tributes can't afford to be underestimated."

I shiver.

He's more correct about that than he will ever know.


	24. Interviews Pt 2: Stay

**A/N This is the second part of the interviews. Here we'll return to Oak and Howleen, who you guys are probably wondering about. Throughout the last few chapters, they've always been seen together. The other characters say that they're allies and likely more than that too. Shall we see how that turns out?**

**Oak Zulily's POV**

I scratch my collar.

Never before in my life have I ever been so uncomfortable.

If this is what looking nice feels like, I will stick to my mud-splattered denim overalls, thank you very much.

Howleen however, tough girl she is, seems to be enjoying dressing up so much.

I guess she should be. She looks amazing.

My cheeks burn red just looking at her. I know, I know. I should be focused.

My heart is fluttering like mad. It kinda reminds me of that time when I was little, younger than Agnes is, and I was at my cousin's house. My uncle has a whole herd of cattle. I'd never been around cattle much, even though I'm from Ten. My family had always raised sheep. But the cattle were massive! And then, my cousin Peter dared me to go in the pen.

Seems like I have a serious problem with dares.

I did it, of course. I ran in there, screaming like a banshee while all my older cousins sat on the fence, laughing like mad.

They had pieces of straw in their mouths that they always chewed nonchalantly and their corduroy pants-covered legs were crossed, as casual as can be.

Meanwhile, I was running for my life from on particular nasty bull. And when one started running, the others all started.

I lasted about forty seconds before I took a grand leap over the fence, feeling like I'd danced with death himself.

That's how I feel now.

Like I'm right in death's face and wondering into the path of a whole bunch of huge bulls.

Damn, some of these tributes are downright scary.

The lights on the television flicker and the girl from Five walks onto the stage. She wears a dress that's deep red and her eyes are all lined in black. Even though she's not that bigger then me and could even be my same age, she always looks so much older.

And way, way tougher.

She's all curves and dripping red.

I want to whisper "woah" to myself again, but Howl will punch my arm so hard I won't be able to pick up a single weapon come tomorrow morning.

"What's her name again?" I ask Howl.

"Katerina." She says, almost bitterly.

I wince. Okay, maybe it's not the wisest idea to talk about the other tributes with her. Especially the girls.

Katerina is utterly intimidating. But she doesn't sit back in the seat and brag about her weapons abilities. She doesn't need to. Her looks speak for themselves. It's like she's in a whole other league than the Careers. They need shallow boasting. She doesn't have to do anything.

"Which tribute do you think offers you the most competition?" Cassius grins largely as he says this. That must be his favorite question. He has a tendency to get right down to anyone's worst side.

Katerina folds her hands in the lap of her dress. It drapes over her and slips up just a bit, revealing razor sharp and tight black heels.

She sighs in an exaggerated way. "Oh, let's see. How about I play politically correct here and say that they all have something to offer."

Cassius laughs. "But we're not here to be politically correct! Come on my dear, my ratings will surely plummet!"

The audience gets a good chuckle out of that one.

So Katerina slips a piece of her brown hair behind her ear. "All right then, Cassius. Fine, let me take a moment to think. Ah…I suppose just some in my own alliance. Never know when they'll turn on you, I guess. One can never be too sure, Cassius. That's the danger of it. There are some in there I just can't trust."

I hear Velvet from Eleven behind me make a strange little noise. Somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

I turn around to sneak a look at her.

She has her arms crossed. She laughs again and rolls her eyes up at Katerina.

Looks like Velvet with her daggers has got other plans than to target Howleen or me.

Katerina blinks twice. "But it's nothing I can't control, you see. That's what I'm all about. Control. If I can be sure not to lose that, which I won't, everything else will just fall into place."

She lifts her chin, almost haughtily. "Besides, so many of these kids are insane anyway. My sanity is actually perhaps my greatest weapon."

"Give it up for the beautiful Katerina!" Shouts Cassius.

I lean over to Howl, who flinches slightly in her uncomfortable and frilly silver gown.

"Who do you think will be our greatest competition? Which tribute are you most worried about?" I whisper in her ear.

"Her." She whispers back, without a moment's hesitation.

Jimmy's on stage before I can say another word.

He looks good, if a little skinny and gangly. His caramel hair is slicked back like Jace's was, except it doesn't really do the same for him. His suit is deep blue, almost black. When he comes out, he waves a little hesitantly to the audience, but mostly looks incredibly afraid. Even though he might be one of the oldest guys here, he's still petrified.

For me, the feeling of being petrified is multiplied by ten.

I'll admit, I'm not a huge guy. Or anything near that. I'm Howl's size even, and she's not exactly average height. She's tiny, really. Even though she pretends like she isn't. Tough as leather, that's what I used to call her when she sat next to me.

Could that be why she was voted in? Cause she sat next to me?

No, that can't be it. Yes, a lot of people blame me for Jonathan's death, but they wouldn't vote in a young girl to her death just for sitting next to me.

Would they?

"Jimmy, I hear you're a bit of a family guy, am I right?" The man has already started on the tough questions. Not that the question itself is tough. It's just that I know for a fact it's going to be really, really hard to talk about my family.

Even after all that's happened, they still treat me the same. Still love me the same.

They're all I have.

Jimmy looks like the question made him real tired. He kind of slumps down in his seat. "Yeah, I am a family guy." He smiles wanly. I got two parents who I'm helping to support with the job I'm just starting. They have their own jobs too and they work hard for me and for Elsie. She's my little sister. She means a lot to me."

"Tell me about her." Cassius says softly.

The audience holds their breath.

Jimmy swallows. "She's just like a little light, know what I mean? Elsie goes through so much. Kind of like my friend Hugo too. Both of them have not had easy lives at all. I can't afford to take one more thing from them. So that's why I'm going to fight."

Howl sighs next to me.

"What is it?" I'm not much of a comforter, probably. I don't how much of a help I am to her. At a time like this, there isn't anything anyone can say or do to help.

She wipes at her eye. Not crying. Howl doesn't cry. But close. "It's just that I get what he means. I don't have a family to fight for, though. So I'm just kind of alone."

I grab her hand. I don't know why I do it. But it feels right. "You're not alone okay?" I say firmly. "Not as long as my feet are on this earth, you're not alone."

Howl bends her head to mine so no one else can hear. "Promise?" Her eyes look hollow.

Like she's had a lot of promises broken before.

"I promise, Howl."

And then she smiles. So that's all I need.

Anna Corinna from Six is up next.

She waltzes onto the stage. The lights illuminate her face. She's smiling. Not just smiling, but grinning. So much so that I can see her perfect, pearly teeth. They're as white as the dress she's wearing.

"Why did her stylist dress her in white?" The girl in front of me with the big brown eyes asks to her partner. "I've seen her throw daggers." She says to him. "And she's lethal. Unstable for sure. She's like a demon. So why white? It's sick. She's not innocent. They dress the little girls in white! That's what they do. It's wrong in so many ways."

"I think that's the point." Her partner says in a low voice.

I look at the dress. It's white as snow and just above her knees. Floaty like clouds, too. Her shoes and the pearly clip in her hair are all white.

"I don't like her." Howl says to me through clenched teeth. "Not at all."

Anna grins throughout the entire interview.

"Anna, how do you think you will fare in the Games?" Cassius questions.

She giggles. "You're all in for a surprise! I'm going to win, Cassius. And I hope for everyone else's sake that they won't be getting in my way." She finishes it with a blindingly white grin.

There is utter silence between those of us left waiting in the hall.

"Are they trying to make her seem crazy as possible?!" Gav from Eleven shouts to no one in particular.

"They don't have to." His little ally says. "She's dang crazy enough without nobody's helping."

Jake, in his simple gray suit with its teal tie, is startlingly normal after the show his partner just put on. When he walks onto the stage, I notice that he looks very, very dazed. He's probably still in shock. Most of the time these past few days. I've been in shock too. My mind just doesn't want me to face everything that's coming up.

That, or I just can't even picture what dying could be like.

Jake sits down, looking incredibly tired and a little giant too. Like he just got over a really bad illness or something. I remember when the fever came into our house three years ago, after it had ravaged through Nine and the outskirts of Ten. We got out just fine, but we looked like Jake does right now for a long time.

When I was at my sickest, being hit the hardest, Agnes picked me flowers.

I thought it was a terribly girly thing to do and pretend to tease her about it, but even then I appreciated it more than she will ever know.

Damn. I never even got to say "thank you".

"So Jake, from what I hear you don't have much of a family left?" Cassius probes.

"That's true." Is the flat answer he gets from Jake.

"Now, a lot of these kids before you mentioned that it was their family that'll keep them fighting. If you don't have that, what will?"

Jake shifts in his chair. "It's not like I never had a family. I had a little sister named Bridie. She had blond hair and blue eyes. She was so little and she really was like a little angel. Seven. That's how old she was. And she'll be seven forever. I guess it's my memory of her that's gonna keep me fighting."

When Jake leaves the stage, rubbing his temple and looking thoroughly exhausted, I turn to Howl.

She knows what I'm going to ask her.

Howl only crosses her arms. "I'm not going to tell him I'm fighting for the _memory _of my mother. No way, I'm not ready to die and be with her yet, thank you very much. Fight is exactly what she would want me to do, though."

This time, she squeezes my hand.

Gav shifts uncomfortably when the next tribute goes on stage.

It's India, the tiny little girl with the wide grin and sparkly eyes. This time, she stares down at her dress with a look of wonder in her eyes. Poor thing doesn't have a sound mind. But what's wrong with a perpetual state of happiness? Better than the state I am in now, I think.

She stumbles onto the stage, almost tripping over her sunset orange dress. Her braid starting at the top of her head now has a sunset of a ribbon on it, from orange to red to pink to purple. The sash on the dress is the same.

"Oh, she looks so nice." Howl whispers sadly.

I can hear the start of tears in her voice.

The interview is a little painful, as India can hardly talk.

It's not like she's stupid or something. To me, it's actually pretty clear he knows just what Cassius is telling her. She just can't get out her response.

India chokes on words, trips on words and forces out words.

Finally, Cassius gets it and goes more easily on her.

"Why don't you show us your dress again, India?" He asks quietly, not accustomed to children like her at all.

India squeals with delight and is more than happy to oblige. Immediately, she stands up. A bit too suddenly, as she teeters to the side. _How's she gonna run if she can't even stay upright? _She turns and twirls the thing until Cassius has to hold her up to keep from falling over.

She sits back down in time for him to ask her one more question.

"India, are you scared?"

India's eyes look crystal clear. She understands. I can see it. India can comprehend so much more than any of us give her credit for. What a horrible life that must be. But India doesn't look like she wants pity. "No." She says firmly and clearly. "Not scared. They say I should be, but no. Can not be." The final words she trips on, but they are still audible.

Cassius rubs his eyebrow. "You can't be scared? And why is that?"

India smiles a little. "I do not listen. They are wrong." She points to herself. "Strong!"

Cassius grins. "Yes India, I would say you are very strong."

_Stronger than any of us will ever know. _I think to myself.

But where India is a little light and nothing short of it, her partner is everything else entirely.

Raen. An odd name for an odd guy. I can tell just looking at him that he has several secrets trapped in that head of his.

You and me both, Raen. You and me both.

"That's your ally, right?" Gavin asks Thorn in front of us.

Thorn nods, but doesn't say much else. She looks incredibly nervous for him.

But he does fine. Yeah, he looks really shaky and nervous and inside his head a bit. I could easily say the same about me.

Honestly, I'm a total mental mess.

He gives short, curt answers to Cassius. Which isn't all that unusual. Most of us can't focus on giving this man's show good rating when we're thinking that we could very well die a terrible death tomorrow. A long, slow awfully painful and bloody one. Oh jeez, here I go again.

No, but what is unusual is that he's obviously doing his best to avoid any talk of himself.

"I'm very sorry about your family's passing, Raen. Can you tell us what they were like?" Cassius tries.

"Good. They were good. Everything was good." Is Raen's soft answer.

Cassius takes a deep breath. "Okay, can you tell me what's it like to live in Seven?"

"Lots of trees. Gets cold in the winter. It's pretty there, though. Real nice."

But he says those last words in a very odd tone of voice.

"Thank you Raen!" Cassius says uncertainly when the interview is done.

The line in front of me is getting shorter.

Keira, small but yet larger than life in her sparkling gold gown, is next.

"Keira, how has your stay in the Capital been so far?" Cassius asks casually.

Her nose twitches slightly. "It's definitely been an eye-opener. The way these people is so dramatically different from the way I do. It's a bit of a shock."

Cassius nods. "Since our audience here tonight is likely unfamiliar with the daily aspects of life in Eight, could you tell us a little about that? And what you did every day?"

She takes a deep breath. "Well, I worked a lot. Most kids in Eight do. Once you turn, oh, let's say seven, it's off to the mills. Most kids end up cleaning scraps, but by the time you're a little older, you have to work with huge and dangerous machines. School is optional and not very frequented. I didn't fit in because of that. I loved school and learning about anything and everything. I've always been observant, you know." She says perkily.

"I can tell!" Cassius laughs to himself. "You've got a certain brightness to your eyes, wouldn't you agree?" He turns to the audience.

They murmur and smile back at him.

"She's doing really well." Howl says to me. "It's like she doesn't even have a care in the world."

And, as I get a good look at her, I see that Howl is right. Of course. She always is.

If it's one thing I know, it's that I can trust Howl's word.

Keira smiles calmly at Cassius and crosses her legs and even gives the audience a few blown kisses throughout her interview.

It's such a strange thing to think at all, but she looks at home.

At home? That can't be.

I shake the thought out of my brain.

When Casper goes onto the stage, I realize that only Gavin is still in front of me.

Only Gavin.

My legs buckle slightly. Howl gives me a sad look. Not pity. She knows I would hate that. Besides, we're in the same boat here.

Casper wears a nice looking powder blue suit. His curly dark hair is straightened and lies flat. His eyes look a little flat too. Too much emotion in the past few days can do that to anyone. Casper more than all of us, I sometimes think. Not only does he have a wife, but he also has an unborn little girl.

What would it be like to know your father met this kind of fate when he was just eighteen?

"Casper, I understand that you're married. Can you tell us a little about this lucky lady?" Cassius asks lightly.

Casper looks up, as if the perfect answer to the question is somewhere in the ceiling. "Elorica is everything a guy could want. Yeah, I know that sounds cliche, but she is. She loves just talking and she's incredibly smart. She's got the biggest heart, too. I'd be shocked if she went a day without giving her bread to some beggar on the street. And she loves me and the baby more than everything. Says her love for the little girl is more than the stars in the sky." He gets a wistful look in his eyes. "Says that all the time."

The audience lets out a collective sigh.

Man, suddenly my problems seem tiny.

"And can you say the same, Casper?"

Casper sits up. "We decided to call her Star, you know. So there's your answer." He laughs softly. "She's my little star, you could say."

Cassius clears his throat. "How will you be without them? And how are they doing without you now, do you think?"

"Before I left, I asked Elli how she was going to get through this. Especially if I you know, didn't come home. She told me every night she's go up on the roof of our apartment to look at the sky, like we always did. And she would be angry that the stars were still shining and I wasn't there to talk with her. Then she'd be sad, but appreciative of their beauty. And one day, she would look up at those stars and feel nothing but happiness. Because we once were together."

Everyone sighs again.

"I was the same. At first, I felt only anger. I still do, really. Now I am sad, of course. But I'm not going gently, I can tell you that. Star has to know her dad was a fighter. But I do hope one day I can just feel happiness because I got to sound a little time with my girls."

The buzzer sounds.

**Howleen (Howl) Jennings's POV**

I have to fight pretty hard to keep the tears from coming.

Years of life at the Jennings place have made me tough as leather. But not so tough that I can't cry anymore at all.

And, if you ask me, nothing is worth crying more than what I just saw. Cause I haven't even got the chance to think about my own death. But here this guy is, staring it right in the face for his kid.

Damn, now that's tragedy.

I curl my fists. Can't help it. Everything in the place makes me so angry. Red hot boiling anger, as I once heard Violet call it when she sat at out table.

At the time, I was sure I didn't want Violet and Keira as my allies because they were just too angry with it all. Anger could be dangerous, I thought.

But now I really know what they are feeling.

Thorn goes on stage next.

Her pointy face looks angular and sharp. And…really pretty. I touch my own. Not like hers at all. Thorn has a beautiful pale green dress on that comes just above her knees. I feel my own floor-length deep purple dress. Not as pretty. Long earrings dangle from Thorn's ears. And she has her head held up so high. Like she really is above this all.

I admire her for all of that.

Something about her in that sense reminds me of my stepsister. Callie always holds her chin up too.

I don't. Can't. Not after the way my "parents" treat me.

"Thorn, your father is mayor of your district, isn't he? Do you think there was anything he could have done to prevent you from getting here?"

Oak turns to me. "The mayor?"

I shrug. "Guess so. That sure is strange. Maybe the people there just hated the man something awful and decided to kill his kid." I shudder at the words. "But that there is a terrible thought, right Oak?"

He nods.

Thorn bristles at the question. Maybe she's been asked it before. "No, there was nothing he could do." She says stiffly. "And I prefer not to think that way anyway/"

Cassius taps his head, dyed a strange sort of purple that matches my dress. "Keeping your head in the Game, right Thorn?"

"Precisely." Is her prim answer.

I'm not sure how I feel about Thorn Kingly at this point. Sure, it's nice that she seems very sane and that she's pretty collected. But I don't like her prim, almost authoritative tone of voice. It could be because of her upbringing, which would make sense. Or she could just be arrogant. And after living with Callie and her mother for several years, there's nothing I hate more than arrogance.

"What would you like to tell the other tributes here about yourself, Thorn?"

She taps her chin. "I know I'm not the most intimidating here. But I deserve a chance, at least. Besides, I'm not going down without a fight."

_You and me both, Thorn Kingly._

That's when I notice that Oak is gone.

A small note of panic erupts in my head. I cross my arms over my chest and bite my lip. I'm alone. I don't have anyone to talk to. And, okay, I'm scared without him. He's probably terrified right now. Throughout the last few days, Oak's been a source of calm for me. The one thing I can be sure about.

I trust him.

We've known each other for a long time. Since we were kids. We used to pair up for everything in school. Sure, as a little girl I liked him a lot. I think he felt the same. But both of us were always just too caught up in our own worlds.

After Oak's incident, I was the only one who would sit with him.

He was always the only one who would sit with me.

In many ways, he reminds me of Sam. Both have that older brother sort of air about them. Oak is an older brother to several kids, I know. And he seems pretty close to all of them. He's kind and very well-meaning, just like Sam. That's probably why we're so close.

So he was my natural ally, nothing needed to be said about that.

But now I don't even have that, and terror has set in.

_How will I react if I'm still alive and Oak isn't? How am I going to carry on like that?"_

The thought drifts into my head and I desperately try to shake it out. But it will stick there, I'm sure of it.

Gavin from Nine has a clear angle. He's tough and just a bit arrogant.

The whole thing makes him come off a lot like a Career.

He's settled into the chair and he keeps eye contact with Cassius throughout the whole course of the interview. He looks even tougher in his black suit with the gold accents. Strong. Like everyone should be afraid of him. It's not the content of the interview that is anything special. It's not.

It's the way he holds himself.

I doubt anyone from Nine has ever chosen the angle he has.

But then, he was voted in. Now that the kids here have been voted in, everything changes.

Suddenly, before he can even finish his interview, I'm being led backstage.

A flustered looking man in all black leads me by the wrist through two sets of double doors. The hallways seems pitch black. Everywhere, people bustle about, whispering frantically to each other. People run by with notebooks, while others talk into little earpieces. Some adjust lighting that hits my eyes and burns them.

I don't even have time to feel nervous.

Because a hand has just pushed me outside.

I'm instantly greeted by a roaring sound.

It takes my cotton-feeling head a while to place it as the audience. They stand on their feet to welcome my arrival. A wave of neon colors. I blink twice. They're still there.

Somehow, I manage a shaky little wave.

My escorts words burn in my throat. _Don't forget to lift your skirt up on those stairs. Tripping would be terrible._

So I lift it up and don't fall over.

Cassius reaches to shake my hand and I smile at him. I don't know how convincing the smile is, because currently I'm so sick to my stomach I think I might vomit all over his purple leather shoes. He smiles at me with a row of teeth showing. Sweet as the chocolate I had after dinner last night. I was so sick afterwards.

Something tells me it's going to be the same here.

His hand feels clammy.

Cassius gestures for me to take a seat in the hideous orange chair across from him, so I do. The thing is so comfortable that I almost want to just fall back into it. But I don't. I have to remain as alert as possible for this.

"Welcome Howleen!" Cassius begins. "And how are you this evening?"

"I'm well, Cassius. Thank you for asking." I give my rehearsed response. "I miss Ten already."

Some parts of that are true. I do miss the wide open land where I could run without another person for miles. Here, everything is so crowded and so packed full of people. I miss the night sky and its endless expanse of stars. So infinite in number that I always felt incredibly small.

There are no stars here.

Cassius folds his hands. "And how do you think training went for you, Howl?"

I take a shuddering breath and try to keep my hands from fluttering too much. The light here is still burning my eyes. "I think it went well because I found an ally I have complete trust in. And in my mind, that's pretty important."

"Ah, who is this ally?"

"Oak Zulily, my district partner." I answer simply. "We've known each other for a while before this."

Cassius raises his eyebrows. "Oh, well do I detect some romance brewing here tonight folks?"

It is my greatest urge to punch the sick man in the face. But then I remember my mentor's tip. _Howl, don't be yourself. Be likable. Just be likable._

So what would these people like to hear?

I force a terribly shallow giggle out of myself and pretend to cover it up with my hand. "Cassius! Oh all right. Maybe just a little." I smiles softly for the camera.

Look at that. The audience loves it.

Then I drop the smile. "But it's so sad, you know." I sigh. Okay, at least this part can be a little more real.

"It's hard to think that I won't be with him for much longer. I'm so used to having him next to me, you know. I'm his strength and he's mine. We have to be there for each other. Or else we're both lost, you know? And to be separated by something so awful…" I shake my head. "I can't even think of it."

The buzzer rings.

"Howleen Jennings, everyone!" Cassius shouts.

I stumble down the stairs and rush out of the area.

Once behind the curtain, I wipe my clammy hands on my dress. It's over now. It's all over.

I take a long breath.

All over.

It could have been worse. Really, it wasn't bad at all. I made it through. I'm still here. And I did fine. I was good, even.

And that last part?

That was completely real.

I shuffle behind the curtain to watch Oak next to Cassius.

The two hit it off right away. Oak's easy going nature is evident from the moment he sits down. He smiles at the cameras. A genuine smiles. He isn't intimidating. He isn't secretive. He's not witty or above it all or arrogant in the slightest. No, he's none of those things.

He's Oak.

"Oak, I just had Howl on here and she said that you were a very trustworthy ally. She also said that you meant a lot to her. Can you say the same about her?"

Oak smiles again. "Absolutely." He laughs and brushes back his hair. "Maybe double!"

"How will you feel if you have to separate, Oak?"

He shakes his head. "No Cassius. That just won't happen. We're allies and we'll stick together. And that's that. I'm going to make sure nothing happens to her. Not on my watch!"

The audience cheers very loudly when his interview is over.

He rushes off the stage with a flushed look on his face, just like I did.

And silently, he slips behind the curtain with me to watch.

One of the people with the earpieces shakes his head when he sees us, but he says nothing. I don't know where the rest of the tributes went. Maybe to their rooms to sleep. But I have too much adrenaline coursing through me to sleep and I want to watch the rest of the interviews.

Besides, it's nice to have just Oak next to me and no one else.

We watch together as Velvet swishes onto the stage in a very low-cut dress. It's also short, naturally, showing off muscular legs. Her face is caked in elaborate makeup styles and her hair is pulled back in a loose twist. She gives the camera a strange, lopsided smile.

I shift in my large dress and rearrange the layers that I'm sitting on. Oh well. Who cares if the thing gets ruined? I hate it anyway.

"Welcome, Velvet Leporis!" Cassius introduces her.

"I'm very happy to be here." She answers smugly.

Oak snorts. "Yeah, I'll bet she is. Happy to get the chance to run through small children with her daggers, I'm sure of it."

"Velvet, I understand that you are the first person from Eleven to join the Career pack. What was your reasoning behind that decision?"

Velvet twirls a loose string of her scarlet hair. "I'm not a typical girl from Eleven and I can tell you that right away. I have no interest in hiding out in trees, picking fruit from them and riding the whole Games out.

She stares at her nails "No, that's not how they were meant to be played. I'm merely playing them as they were intended to be."

I look at Oak and roll my eyes. "Oh yes, they're all about the entertainment value. Never mind if you're sending yourself straight into a pack of wolves rather than hide from them. No matter if you get torn to pieces. The important thing is, the show gets good ratings!"

Oak gives a bitter smile.

But where Velvet's interview was violent, intimidating and just a little disturbing, Gav's is the polar opposite.

He looks small. That's my first impression of him when he walks out. He wears a hazel colored suit with a small white rose tucked in it. He smiles shyly at the audience and takes his seat, fumbling around with his suit.

"Gav, I see that despite you and Velvet being from the same district, you too have very different backgrounds. Can you tell me a little more about where you come from?"

Gav grins, but his eyes are still a little empty seeming. "Sure. I got a mother and a whole bunch of siblings." He nods at the camera. "I'd like to give them a hello tonight. I wish they didn't have to see me here, but it is what it is. Anyway, I know we don't have much but my mother makes life the best she can for us."

"Do you miss her?"

"Yeah, I sure do." He shakes his head. "But it's nothing compared to how much I'm scared that she misses me right now. My little brothers and sisters too."

I hear Oak move next to me. "I know the feeling." He whispers softly.

I give his hand a little squeeze.

"I understand that you have an alliance, Gav. Who is in it? I hear it's pretty big."

He thinks for a moment. "Well, mostly my ally is the girl from Twelve, Jezi. She's small, I know. But she's great with plants and what to eat. But Kaja from One is kind of the head of our bigger alliance, which also has Jimmy and maybe Thorn and Raen in it too."

Cassius scratches his chin thoughtfully. "That does sound fair sized. Would you say there's any effort to try to take down the Careers?"

I poke Oak's shoulder. "That's just what I was wondering."

But Gav only shrugs at the question. "I really dunno! Don't think so, as that would be a real stupid thing to do."

Oak kneels back on the cold ground, his figure moving the black curtain slightly. "If they were going to take down the Careers, Howl, would you want to join them?" He whispers.

"I think I agree with Gav. A real stupid thing to do." The thought floats around in my head for a while. "Then again, maybe I'd just die anyway."

I expect Oak to tell me not to say something like that. I shouldn't be thinking things like that. He should tell me just to focus on what's going to come. To keep my head clear of dark and distracting thoughts. Just keep thinking of strategy, that's what he should be telling me.

But he says nothing.

The tiny watching space behind the curtain has grown incredibly silent.

Suddenly, the audience is back to cheering.

Jezebelle Holden, the smallest person here tonight, has just entered the stage.

Her stylist really went for the "little girl" look. Her hair is pulled back in two immaculate black braids and her dress is pink and flawy. It flares out at her waist and she wears little white shoes beneath it. She steps up to where Cassius stands and smiles shyly.

"Good evening, Jezebelle." Cassius says.

Jezi smiles. "Call me Jezi."

"Okay then, Jezi. Your dress is very beautiful, by the way. How do you feel about your score?"

Jezi's brown eyes widen. "Oh, I don't know much about how this all works. It's a good score, though. That's what my mentor told me. So I am happy about that, I guess."

Cassius shuffles his hands slightly. "And being one of the youngest here, does the frighten you?"

She sinks down in her seat slightly. "Yes." Is her soft answer. "But I think everyone else is scared too."

"Got that right, kid." Is all Oak has to say about that.

"So what do you think is working to your advantage? Why would you think someone should sponsor you?"

Again, Jezi seems a little confused by the question. And when I really look at her closely, she seems younger than twelve. Strange. "I'm tough." Jezi finally says. "I've been living on the streets since I was seven. I can fend for myself just fine. I even took care of my little sisters. I know what to eat and what to not, and what to do and what not."

Cassius smiles. "That's good, Jezi."

She practically floats off the stage, tiny and delicate like a butterfly.

I can't place it, but there is something very unnerving about Jezebelle. She just seems so young.

Finally, it is time for the last interview of the night.

Cadence.

He walks onto the stage simple as can be. He doesn't grin or wave. But he doesn't sulk or frown either. He just walks.

And I take a deep breath.

"I know." Oak says. "I don't want it to end. I want it to go on forever. So we never have to go to sleep."

"Or wake up tomorrow." I tell him softly.

I tune into the interview as Cassius asks another question.

"So can you explain to us just what your life is like Twelve?"

He clears his throat nervously. "Well, I'm a baker. Sort of. I just have a little cart with cookies and cakes and whatever else I can scrape together. And I bring it into town to sell." He laughs slightly. "I'm not a very good businessman, though. I've been known to give away things for free. My sister really loved sweets, so I do it for her, in a way."

Cassius barely lets him pause for breath before he asks one again. "Cadence, who will you be fighting for come tomorrow?"

And Cadence, with his tall form and muscular build, seems to be blinking back tears.

I hold my breath.

"My little sister. She passed away a while ago, just like Jake's. She would want me to fight my hardest. But I'm fighting for Jezebelle too. She bought sweets from my cart all the time. Or I just gave them to her." He smiles sadly. "And I'm fighting for all the other kids who have lost their lives in the Games and the ones this year who will loose theirs."

His buzzer sounds and the cameras shut off.

"Fighting for all the kids who have or will loose their lives." Oak says to himself. "Think we should do the same, Howl?"

"Of course. Of course we should."

And then we slowly stand up, Oak helping me by grabbing my hand.

"Time to go." He whispers into my ear. We walk out into a hallway.

And that's when I feel it.

A single tear, making its way down my cheek.

Oak looks shocked. "What is it?"

I cover my mouth with my hand, but a sob still escapes. "I don't want to go, Oak. Please. I don't want to leave yet. Not now."

So we stand in silence in a hallway outside the stage. He holds my hand and I hold his until the tears stop coming down.

He knows I mean more than just not wanting to go to sleep.

I don't want to go yet.

**A/N Thank you for sticking to this for this long, readers! Leave a review with your feedback because the Bloodbath is coming up and I need to make sure everyone likes the way these guys are being written. **

**Okay, big announcement!**

**Next chapter would normally be in the POVs of Gav and Velvet. But I'm going to do something a little different. They will still have their POVs, so don't worry cherry bubble! Velvet will have more POVs in the Games than a lot of the characters because it's pretty clear she's going to make it pretty far, anyway. **

**I'm really excited for this, so stay posted people! It's gonna be an epic surprise!**


	25. The Last Night

**A/N Here it is, folks! So I said this chapter would be about the night before the beginning of the Games. And it is! Hopefully, it will tell you even more about these characters just so that everyone reading this becomes familiar with all of them. Please send a review, whether you submitted a character or not, to tell me how you liked this idea!**

**Here we go!**

**One-Ani**

Anastasia, called Ani by most everyone, flicks the television set off.

It's way past her bedtime. She knows that. And she's genuinely a good girl, really. It's just that she can't go to sleep.

So she sits on the couch, staring at the black screen.

The couch is itchy.

Of course it is. Everything in this house is uncomfortable. Ani doesn't know if it's the material, or if it's just not her house. Lititia likes everything all packed together and stuffy. Sure, Ani doesn't mind Lititia. She's nice. But not nice like Kaja. Ani just wants Kaja to come back.

Rosemarie, Ani's twin sister, sits across from her on the couch.

"Kaja looked so pretty, didn't she Ani?"

And Ani nods. Because Kaja did look pretty. Her dress was so blue and shimmery.

"She wasn't happy, though Rosie. When she's with us, she can be pretty and happy."

Rosie shifts her position. In her hand, she clutches her favorite bear. Lititia let her go back to the house and get it. But she and Ani have been here at Lititia's for days now. Feels like years.

"She's only unhappy cause she's not with us." Rosie says firmly.

Then, their new caretaker walks into the room, sipping tea like she always does. Like nothing is off at all. But Ani knows better. She's seen it in the way people look at her. She saw how hard her sister was crying when she had to get on that train. She sees how sad all the children look on the screen. Something bad is happening. Ani is a smart girl, for her seven years.

Whatever sort of Game this is, it certainly isn't a fun one.

"You girls best go to bed now." Sighs the old woman.

Rosie obeys. Ani has never been very obedient.

She crosses her arms firmly. "What happens tomorrow?"

Lititia purses her lips. "The Games begin tomorrow, Ani. Early in the morning. I'll bet you won't even see them anyway. You aren't allowed to see them. Kaja would make sure of that and so will I. No watching the television tomorrow at all, am I clear?"

Ani nods. But she wants to know more.

**One-Velvet Lockheart**

In the deep blue darkness just setting in on the mining part of the district, a girl of fourteen named Velvet walks.

The street lights have just been turned on and she takes a moment to look at their pretty gold glow. They seem so warm and inviting.

It's a very nice night. A warm breeze curls its way through the streets. Puddles left over from the day's rain catch the glistening light of the lamps.

But Velvet is crying.

Velvet isn't roaming around the streets of her district past nine o' clock at night because she's sad, though.

Nor is she angry. She was angry with her father for not even bothering to watch Adonis's interview. Said he'd wait until the action began. She's not angry anymore, though. Anger takes too much energy, anyway.

She's walking because she's confused.

Velvet always walks when she needs to figure something out. She knows this path well, with its dingy storefront sings and loose cobblestones. Shopkeepers stand in the porches, having a smoke or locking up for the night.

She doubts she'll ever figure this out, though.

The question on her mind now is _who is Kaja Thomas?_

Velvet doesn't know much about her brother, but she can see that the two know each other. More than that. They exchanged glances all the time when the television showed the tributes' training. They would run to each other and whisper things when either thought their allies weren't looking. Once, she saw her brother squeeze the girl's hand.

It was beyond strange.

Even more strange, though, was her brother's interview.

The eye-rolls. The sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

She could practically hear the trainers back at the Center shouting to each other now.

_Adonis, what do you think you're doing?_

Maybe they would ask Velvet. But Velvet didn't know.

Okay, she did know one thing for sure.

Kaja is the one responsible.

It is true to say that Katherine Jasmine Thomas came out of nowhere. She wasn't a well-known trainee, who everyone was sure would get sent anyway. With that spark of rebellion in her brown eyes, that would be impossible. The girl is younger than Adonis, but leading what is clearly an anti-Career alliance.

And Velvet knows she should be angry with this girl.

Corrupting her brother like that? Why, it's just terrible. Not to mention, it could be very, very bad for the both of them.

It's dangerous. If those Gamemakers know which of the tributes are harboring rebellious thoughts, Adonis could be eliminated with the bush of a button.

It would all be so easy.

Mostly, though, Velvet should hate this Kaja girl because her views about the Capital are wrong as well as dangerous.

The Capital is generous, right? They can give fame and money. Wealth. Safety.

Honor.

There is one thing that Velvet doesn't understand. Why can they only give those things by killing over twenty children in the process?

Children like her Adonis, with families and friends back home who love them more than those people with their hideous clothes could ever know.

Yes, Velvet knows she should hate Kaja.

Here's the thing, though.

She really doesn't.

**Two-Brion**

Across the entire continent, in a small house by a stone quarry, a young man named Brion Parker puts the finishing touches on a chest of drawers.

He sighs in satisfaction. The chest has been varnished to perfection.

Almost subconsciously, he prepares for his younger sister to enter his room. To sneer at him and laugh at what a waste of time carpentry is.

That is something Shimmer has been doing for years now. She would whisk into the room with her nose in the air, as if the place had a foul smell. Her feet would just only brush the floor, like it was crawling with ants. Which is wasn't. Brion has always kept it clean. Shimmer always smelled of heavy lavender perfume and he had come to dread the smell.

Now, he sniffs the air, testing for it.

It is gone.

The absence of it makes a barrage of emotions hit Brion.

He's pleased that he no longer has to deal with it. He can build and paint and polish to his heart's content.

But this is his little sister.

And isn't a young man like himself supposed to protect his little sister? As Brion thinks about that, he realizes that he never really has protected her. Soon as he was old enough to start, she was already fending for herself. In fact, Shimmer would be mortified if he ever made any attempt at protection.

Brion sits limply on his stool. Outside the small house's windows, stars hang low.

What if his only sister never comes home?

It kills him to think that they haven't been on good terms for such a long time. Years now, he realizes.

He tried. He really did. Tried to reach out to her. To have her care about him as much as he cared about her.

To no avail.

Brion feels more alone than he ever has before.

But Shimmer doesn't. And this he knows before.

He shuts his eyes and imagines what she's doing now.

Hah! Not missing him, for sure. She's probably enjoying ever minute of her stay in the Capital. She's sighing in contentment after finishing a delicious meal and basking in the attention of others during her interview. Shimmer could have insisted to keep the dress on. That sounds like her.

And now, she's drifting off to a comfortable and dreamless sleep. Not remotely scared about tomorrow.

Brion is.

He's terrified.

Because what if his sister is wrong?

**Two-Nazri**

A black-haired, olive-skinned girl sits, hugging her knees to her chest.

Nazri feels her bony knees digging in. The couch she's sitting on is threadbare and sagging in the center.

But she doesn't care.

She's too deep in thought.

The television in front of her has been shut off for a long time now.

Nazri wonders if its odd that she's been sitting in front of a television with nothing on it for over an hour now.

It's best she stays down here anyway. Her father's gone and drunk himself into a stupor and has just fallen asleep upstairs. Best to not wake him. Does he know that Nazri's boyfriend is in the Games this year? Is that why he spent three hours at the bar? Because he's so sad?

No, that's not right. She shakes her head. Nazri doesn't need to give a reason for her father's alcoholism. She's stopped trying long ago.

Julian used to get so angry when she tried to give excuses.

_He's just not the same with my mother gone._

_His father used to drink a lot too._

_His mother beat him._

_It's just in the family blood._

"Damn it, Nazri!" Julian would shout. "Those aren't even real excuses. Your dad's awful and that's it. Forget him. You've got me right here."

That was the most angry he'd ever gotten with her.

He's always been such a calm person. Nazri supposes that should work in his favor in the Games, but most Careers are more aggressive. Julian's more of a mediator. He puts up an incredible fight with those daggers, though. He uses them sparingly and calculatingly, which the others might not understand

Nazri misses his laugh. Julian was conservative with his laughter, only sparing it for when the moment was exactly right.

It makes her so happy to see that grin! The way his dark eyes lit up and met her own glittering black ones. She always buried her head in his shoulder when she laughed and he put his arm around her.

They fit together into each other perfectly.

Those times they kissed. She misses those more than anything.

He was so gentle with her.

The walks they took together, hopping from cobblestone to cobblestone, him ranting about his lated unlucky streak. He seemed to be having one of those all the time. The way he put his fingers into hers and Nazri locked onto them.

Maybe she should have locked on harder.

All those moments. All those seconds spent together. Minutes, hours and days that she is remembering now.

Will there ever be any more of those?

With every minute that passes, Nazri doubts that more and more.

**Three-Karin**

Karin holds a picture of her daughter.

It's a little grainy. A photograph the school takes of the children every year, something about the government keeping tabs on everyone. Karin never understood why they needed identification photos for little kids, but she never said anything. Besides, the families got to keep a picture if they paid.

Karin always paid.

Her daughter is such a pretty little thing, with her dimples and flyaway blond hair. Aya smiled so widely for the camera.

She wipes a stray tear. She's been crying on and off for days now. It's not something she's proud of, but she can't help it. Her only daughter. Gone. Just like that.

It never felt like this, though.

It used to be, when she went out to the market and to work, a few people stared. They knew she had a sick child and saw her only as "the mother of the sick kid." But it had always been bare able. Maybe once a week or so someone would say "Sorry about the girl. Hope she feels better." Or something of the sort.

Now though, now it's hell.

Everyone knows her as the mother of the girl who was reaped. Everyone. Word travels like lightning.

Karin fingers the picture of her little girl lightly.

Aya's illness has made her a little more fragile than most mothers. She knew her child wouldn't make it.

She just refused to acknowledge it.

Aya's death seemed so far off. Nothing to cry over now. It was an impossible thought. The mere idea of the child having a shorter life than her mother seemed just so irrational. How could it happen? That wasn't the way death was supposed to be. And so, the thought of Aya's passing often left Karin's mind completely.

This was different.

Now, Karin Brow has no choice but to stare her daughter's death right in the face.

Because this can't be ignored.

It's a terrible kind of wake-up call. Like icy water thrown on the face.

Suddenly, she feels her fingers tighten around the picture and make a small tear.

Then another. And another.

And before she even wakes from her trance, the picture of smiling Aya is in shreds.

_What does it matter? She's already gone._

Karin snaps awake.

What has she done? What if Ross were to walk into the room and see her like this?

She stares at the shredded picture.

Maybe Ross can glue it together come tomorrow. They'll pick up the scattered, torn and sad pieces and fit them together into one content picture.

If only everything were so simple.

**Three-Clarisse**

In a cold, gray building in the center of the large district, Clarisse Waters sits sketching.

One line blurs into the next. Each stroke of her hand brings something new to the page.

Outside, a steady drizzle has started and Clarisse is glad for the warmth and dryness of her room. Yes, she's in an overcrowded orphanage. Her stomach is grumbling in hunger after that last measly meal of stew with just one piece of beef in it. But life could always be worse.

She could be Jace Ignis.

The thought makes little goosebumps appear on her arms.

Tomorrow is the big day. The Bloodbath.

Scratching the pencil to the paper, Clarisse racks her brain for all her knowledge about Jace in this year's Games.

He's decided to be a Career. Jace has chosen maces as his weapon, which she thinks are the scariest ones there. He looks a little intimidating with his muscular build. His score was…an eight or something? Jace looked nice in the interview. And he was talking about a girl she is pretty sure was herself.

Clarisse's stomach does a jump.

The picture she is drawing is of the interview, with all the glittering lights and Cassius looking over it all like an emperor.

Behind her, she feels someone looking over her shoulder at it.

It's Pixel, the annoying fifteen year old who sleeps in the bed next to hers.

"Is that a picture of the interviewing place? It's really good, Clarey. Is it because you miss Jace? He was talking about you, Clarey! He was!" Pixel rambles excitedly.

But Clarisse only rolls her eyes at the girl. Doesn't she get it? Clarisse doesn't even know Jace.

"Pixie," Clarisse starts, since they're using nicknames anyway, "I don't even know Jace that well. He's just been all over me since we were kids. I don't know why, really I don't. He's always talking about me like we're some couple or something. But we're not! I can't help that he's kind of a creep who is always staring at me."

Pixel jolts back, clearly surprised by her words.

Clarisse is confused for a second.

Then it hits her.

Jace is in the Games. Jace is going to die.

And it's just wrong to speak ill of the dead, right?

Immediately, she wants to draw back her words. She wishes she could just grab her eraser and erase all the harsh lines and the ugly picture she's just created. A few strokes, that's all it would take. Then it would all be gone. Right? It's that simple.

If only, if only.

Clarisse stares at the picture.

In it, Cassius is staring at an empty chair, as if waiting for the next tribute to come on stage.

But Clarisse has changed her mind.

Slowly and with sure strokes of her hand, she begins to add Jace Ignis to the picture.

**Four-Victor**

Victor stares at the bottle in front of him.

Whiskey. The local bar's very best. Victor figured he could splurge a little, now that Violet isn't here. The stuff he bought will go down burning. And that's just what he wants.

Under the loose and rotting floorboards, the water sloshes. It laps up on the stilts of the old shack, making the sort of soothing sound that used to send him and Violet to sleep peacefully every night. Now it sounds like it's taunting him. He can almost hear words in its swishing sounds.

_Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._

An endless repetition of the words from the small waves.

Victor tightens his grip on the wooden table. _My fault._

But really, what could he have done to save his baby sister? His little light? He couldn't have volunteered for her. He's too old and they didn't allow volunteers this year. He couldn't have kept her home with him in his safety, thought he would have wanted to.

She would be safe from everything if he could be with her.

She would fit so perfectly in that rooted out space beneath the floor. He could slide a threadbare blanket over her or something…but no. That's impossible. He couldn't keep her all wrapped up, hidden in his arms. They would come and break down the door.

And he couldn't stop her from stabbing Maybelle Jessup's hand. The thing that started it all.

It's the old Callo fire, he thinks bitterly. Nothing he can do about it.

How can it be that just a few days ago Violet was right here? She was sitting on the floorboards, carving her name into them with that little pocketknife Dad gave her for her first Reaping. And she was right there, on the little dock outside the house! She was peering into the murky water, looking for hints of turtles beneath. Together, she and Victor would make a mean turtle soup.

Smiling, smirking, grinning, laughing Violet. His little Violet.

He can almost feel her right here in his lap. Squirming and pretending to get away, but secretly loving every minute of it, just like she did when she was little.

Victor can feel his arms around her, embracing her and the little fire that she carried inside her wherever she went.

He wants to feel just one more second of that flame. Just a little more!

Because it's so cold here.

So cold.

He stares at the bottle of whiskey. No. It's all wrong.

This is not how to carry Violet's little fire in him. All wrong. Not how to remember someone, especially someone as perfect as her.

With a gasp, he heaves the thing up and throws it at the wall.

It shatters into a million pieces.

**Four-Jacob**

Jacob Wade lies on his bad and stares at the ceiling.

It's a bunk bed. Markus slept on the bottom.

It feels odd without him there. Like Jacob is just kind of floating there, somehow. It's like…like Markus was grounding him there or something.

Now there's no one there to keep him from falling out of the air.

Across the room in a ramshackle sort of crib, baby Kan sleeps, snoring softly. Jacob lies there and watches his little chest fall for a while, before turning to look at his other younger brother, Kai. Kai coughs softy and whimpers. He looks a little flushed, like he has a fever.

Jacob considers calling for his mother, but then forgets it. Kai's had fevers before.

And honestly, Jacob doesn't care.

He doesn't care about much of anything lately. He just sort of lies around, thinking of Markus.

_Is this how it feels to be really, truly sad? _He wonders.

Not just sort of sad. But the kind of sadness that makes him ache all over. A dull, throbbing ache that makes it hard to move, even if he wanted to. It feels like his head is full of cotton and his eyes are always watering up with fresh tears, even before the last ones have completely dried off his face.

Because Jacob knows what happens to the kids who go to the Games.

They don't come back.

He tosses and turns for a while, but then thinks better of it.

He wants to sleep in Markus's bed tonight.

So he scrambles down from his own narrow bed and down to Markus's.

It still smells like him. A little bit of sweat, with salt from the sea and the tang of freshly caught fish, all mixed with the oatmeal they'd fixed together that morning a week ago.

Like it's frozen in time.

Jacob curls up with the blankets surrounding him and finally begins to drift off to sleep.

It feels like his brother is right there next to him.

**Five-Tesla**

In a small apartment under a haze of light pollution, nine year old Tesla Nikolina braids her mother's hair.

Lately, her mother has been looking even paler than usual. She wears a tight-lipped frown all the time now. Her hair falls limply down because she never bothers to brush it.

So Tesla has decided to braid it.

It's something Katerina taught her how to do. One of the few times her older sister ever spent time with her. That was two years ago. Katerina was strange even then, but not so much as now. She had enough patience then to guide her little sister's hand through her hair, giving interactions on where to place the strands.

Tesla thinks back to that blissful time. Nothing was scary then.

Everything made sense.

But now nothing makes any sense at all to poor young Tesla, so left out of things.

Why has her sister just left? She's been gone for a whole week now. That doesn't seem right. Tesla can't think of any kind of game that would take this long just to prepare for. The people on the television say it hasn't even started yet. So what sort of game is The Twenty Fifth Annual Hunger Games? Why won't anyone tell her?

Tesla chews on her own hair while she ponders over it. It's a bad habit that Katerina happens to have too.

Hunger. That part is clear. Maybe the contestants aren't allowed to eat. And when they can't stand it anymore, they press a huge button and get sent home in shame. The winner gets money and fame! That part Tesla knows for sure, because Katerina's been going on about it nonstop for months now.

Oh yes, that seems right.

Tesla braids her mother's hair, now content with her answer.

Katerina says she will win. She's said those words so many, many times. And not even to Tesla, or Tesla's six year old sister- Maxi, or even their own mother.

Words spoken in the dead of night that Tesla only happened to hear by chance. Katerina whispering them into her mirror or her pillow. Saying them to a girl she used to walk home from school with.

Before the girl got too scared of her and Katerina stopped going to school at all.

That was her and Tesla's secret.

Tesla only stumbled on it six months ago, when she was running away. Well, not really running away. She'd had a rough day in school, to say the least. The teacher had called her out three times for doing nothing at all and a group of kids at lunch has made fun of her for having a "crazy" sister who spent all her time muttering to herself.

"She's not crazy!" Tesla had shouted.

Was she?

Anyway, Tesla had run away from that terrible place, right back home to find Katerina alone in the house, spinning a butterfly knife. Already, one was stuck in the wall.

The two made a silent agreement never to speak about that again.

But now, little Tesla wonders why she didn't think anything of her sister sitting alone and playing with knives. That's just how she is, Tesla thought. A little odd, that's all. A little scary sometimes yes that's it.

Not crazy. Oh no. Not Katerina.

**Five-Elsie**

Elsie curls up in anticipation.

Her mother slowly bends down and gives her a single kiss, parting her hair slightly.

Elsie still sighs with happiness, just like she did when she was younger.

But everything is wrong.

Jimmy is gone. Not in the bed across from hers, reading by flashlight. Not making shadow animals on the wall, making Elsie laugh all night long. He's not in the kitchen, having a discussion with their father, or staying late at the lab to finish a project.

"Mommy." Elsie whispers. She hasn't called her mother that in a long time.

Her mother turns around, one hand poised on the door, ready to close it. She looks very, very tired. And old, Elsie realizes. Her mother looks old. Dad looked old today too, when he insisted on going to bed right after Jimmy came on the television.

"Yes Elsie?" She says softly.

"Will it hurt a lot, do you think?" The question feels strange, falling out of Elsie's mouth like that. She's been holding it in for a while.

Her mother walks slowly back to where Elsie lies with her limp arm dangling off the side of the bed. She sits down heavily beside her, stroking the arm that Elsie can't feel at all. "I don't know." She finally answers. "We can hope it will be fast. He'll be brave no matter what, you know. You will too, I bet."

"I'm not the brave one!" Elsie insists. "Jimmy is. I'd be crying so hard on that T.V is I was him. I'd be missing you and Dad so much."

"Jimmy's being brave for us, you know." Her mother says. "That's just how he is."

"Hey Mom?"

"Yes, Elsie?"

"Jimmy's looking up at the same sky we are right now. That's pretty amazing, right? Like we're kind of together right now, even though we aren't."

"Yes. It is amazing." The woman says slowly. "Let's hope for his sake, the sky is really beautiful tonight wherever he is."

**Six-Alessandria **

It is just another night in Anna's house.

It's no more quiet than usual, a fact Alessandria finds a little unusual.

Her daughter was always a quiet child. Used to retreat to her room and spend all day there, the mouse of a girl. What did she do up there? Maybe Alessandria doesn't want to know.

The girl on the television is not Anna. It is, but not at the same time. A rather puzzling sort of riddle, the likes of which she would laugh at before. Of course that young woman is her child! How could she not be?

But yet, everything seems different somehow. Like all the bad, black things swirling around in that disturbed little girl have been accentuated. They've taken a fragile little thing and turned her completely and utterly insane. No longer her little girl, for sure.

Then again, she never was.

It isn't fair to say that Alessandria ever cared for the little thing. Sometimes, she found herself genuinely loving the girl. How can a mother ever not love her child? It is impossible. It's just that this particular mother didn't want to dirty her hands with the thing, that's all.

What had she done wrong with the girl? Maybe yes, she did feel a swell of pride to note that her daughter was not a weakling. She was breaking all the bonds her district had put on her.

She did not like to see her own child so unstable.

What could have happened? Such a lovely little baby, that Anna was. With her black, black hair and high cheekbones. She was every bit as beautiful and striking as her own mother.

As time went on though, her mother began to find other things to occupy her time again. The baby was left to nannies and caretakers and eventually and far to early, all alone.

But Alessandria doesn't think of this.

It wasn't her fault. Nothing ever is.

She brushes past her daughter's room. The canopy bed, draped in red is still standing tall. A mirror has a long, thin crack running through it.

_Why have I never noticed that? _Wonders the mother.

Of course. Because she hasn't looked in this room for a long, long time.

Who knows? Maybe Anna will come back to fill the room again. They can all move to an even bigger house in that empty Victors Village. The very idea makes the woman's heart soar.

Now, perhaps, she can finally be proud of Anna Corinna.

**Six-Wayne**

Even though the dusty old street lamps have long since been turned on, Wayne still pushes a dingy rag over a truck.

Warm air breezes in through the streets. Late May breeze. Wayne is thankful the bitter cold so common here is gone by now.

But warm air coming has always meant one thing.

Time for the Games to begin.

He shudders a little. There's been a lot more work for him at the shop recently. Some trouble out in an outskirt of Six, way north of where the center is and where Wayne makes his living. Riots or something. Not too big. They never are. But large enough to need several dozen Peacekeepers who are also in need of transport.

Wayne chews on his cigarette. It isn't lit. He just forgot.

It's been tough with Jake gone. Nobody to talk to. He would talk to Chevy, except that she hasn't come in for a few days. He doesn't blame her. Doesn't care either. He'll pay her just the same as always.

He watched the interviews on the old set above the tool station. Required to, really.

Jake wasn't bleary eyed like he used to be, but he sure looked tired.

Withdrawal. Everyone here has been through that before.

Wayne sighs in pity for the guy.

It must be awful to die.

He doesn't like to think about these things. After all, he was a kid once too. A few years ago really. He's seen classmates and friends be separated and torn from their families. Awful stuff. It never changes or gets any easier to bear, even as the years go on.

Because, as chance would have it, eventually someone you know and care about will get taken.

The car's been spotless for a while now. But Wayne keeps pushing that rag across it.

Jake has a sister, didn't he? A little thing. Bridget? Birdie?

Ah, right. Bridie.

Bridie's dead. Wayne knows that. Killed by the drunken uncle with one swing into a table or something. Jake strangled the guy right after. Murder doesn't look good on records. But lucky for Jake, Wayne heard enough of the true story from a neighbor that he still hired him.

There was always more to that Jake Rittler than met the eye.

Maybe there is a silver lining.

The phrase Wayne remembers from long ago. Silver lining. He likes the sound of it. Even sounds kind of pleasant.

Nothing silver or pleasant about dying, though. No, not at all.

Unless you're Jake Rittler.

**Seven-Aven**

Another cross-country journey would take you to the very western-most point in the nation.

A huge forest of gigantic trees. Greenery draped everywhere and small log cabins nestled between it all.

In one such cabin, a young man with a tired face sits carving a piece of wood.

He uses the light coming from the moon through his window. A small candle burns lightly.

Aven remembers the way his little sister looked whenever he made her something. The way her little face would light up with joy. India liked birds best. She has a whole shelf of them in her room. Cardinals died bright red and bluebirds a soothing deep blue. Sparrows and chickadees. Ready to take flight.

Just like India.

She can't fly away from where she is now, though.

She's trapped in that hellhole.

Aven angrily clutches at the bird. It will never see its recipient. She'll be dead by morning.

Just then, the person he least wants to see walks into the little room.

"What do you want, Bay?" Aven growls.

Bay retreats silently, holding up his hands. "Only wanted to see where you were, that's all. I just wanted to check up on you." He rubs his hair sheepishly. "You know, to see if you're okay after…uh, after all of this." He rambles on. "I know she was real special to you so I just wanted to make sure. That's all."

Aven only shakes his head. "No Bay. You don't care. You don't give a damn that your little sister is gonna _die_!

"W-What?" Bay stutters. "Calm down Aven, You're not making any sense."

He looks as his brother slowly raises himself out of the chair, shaking with rage. The unfinished carving clatters to the ground. "You know it's true, Bay. She was nothing but a burden to you, You're glad she's gone! Now you don't have to put up with her. You're no better than the rest of those monsters!"

Bay's face crumbles.

Because even though his brother isn't completely true at all, there is a base for his belief.

Bay knows full well that he was never the brother he should have been to her.

Brother falls on brother, tears brimming at both their eyes. They are too upset to use angry words. They're tired and beyond all that.

Besides, fighting won't bring her back to them.

Strange, it seems one only begins to feel true guilt when that person is dead.

The bird carving lies silent on the floor, forever missing its wing.

**Seven-Esther**

Esther plucks at the sheet.

She doesn't know that it's a pleasant night outside tonight. She doesn't know that there is just a hint of summer in the air, riding on the breeze. Nor can she see the stars that hang so low in Seven, or the way the leaves on the trees are shaking under the full moon.

No, Esther has no idea what it's like outside.

After all, she hasn't been outside at night for over a year.

Hasn't been outside at all, really. The people here won't let her. What did she do? She wonders that over and over again. What can anyone do to deserve being locked away in tiny white walls forever?

Forever seems to describe it well enough. How old was she when she got here? Nine? Ten? It doesn't matter.

Raen used to tell her she could be any age she wanted. Even an adult, if she wanted to skip The Really Bad Thing entirely. But that wouldn't make sense at all. What many people don't know is that Esther is an incredibly smart girl. Incredibly.

Raen knew. Raen knew a lot of things most people didn't.

What nobody knows (besides maybe some government file on her that they make for all the psychos here) is that she is only sixteen years old. Just barely even.

But that doesn't matter. Nothing does, really.

Esther knows she should be grateful they took the restraints off. Yes, that time she really did deserve them. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to try to stab someone.

_Funny how that works. _She thinks. That it can be perfectly okay for a young girl like her to stab another person, under the circumstances. All that it takes is to have your name be read off a little slip of paper. And then, murder is not only acceptable. It's encouraged.

She laughs bitterly to herself. Maybe she'd fare far better than Raen would. The kind of psycho she is. What personality is she now? Who knows? Raen just sees ghosts. Why they locked him away in this place, she'll never know.

This place if for people like her.

And honestly, Esther has never met anyone as insane as herself.

Sad that most people here don't even realize they're completely insane. That was how she was, so many years ago when she was first brought here. Thought she would go home any minute and go back to playing with her dolls and climbing trees. Hah!

Slowly, she came to terms with her "state" as the nurses here called it.

Raen never really did.

The fate he's about to meet is not for him.

No. Esther realizes. This is all wrong.

This was a fate meant for her.

At least _he _got out of this place.

**Eight-Mimi**

Mimi massages her sore fingers after a long day.

No different from the rest, this day was. Only, she got to leave the factory earlier by two whole hours. The air almost felt like a celebration, but with everyone trying to suppress their happy moods around Mimi.

She didn't mind.

It used to be, that on the interview day, she and Keira would walk home from work together, chatting about all the tributes that year. That's what they had done last year and the year before that. Both were lucky enough to work at the same factory. And they would talk and tap about who they thought would win.

Everyone else was silent.

Mimi and Keira were alone in their conversations of the Games.

They never seemed to realize what a taboo it was to everyone else.

To them, it was an event on television. A scary one nonetheless, that made lots of kids cry. However, the winner got fame and fortune. And that prospect drew them right in. Any place seems better than this one, after all. But it had never touched either of them.

Until now.

She buries her head in her hands. How could she have been so stupid?

This is her fault. She's sure of it. Her fault for letting her best and only friend believe all that crazy talk they were always going on about.

How great the Capital was. How much they hated the place they were living. That maybe someday Keira would win the Games and bring them both money. And they would never have to work again. That it would all be a dream come true.

That together, they would make their tormentors pay.

Is this what Keira wanted then?

Because now, Mimi feels more alone than ever.

This empty loneliness and terrible sadness is horrible. Her friend could be gone tomorrow. Imagine. Mimi shuts her eyes and tries to picture it. Never seeing Keira's sly grin or shining eyes again.

Never hearing that happy laugh.

She was right here in this room, just a little more than a week ago.

And she was so _alive._

The Keira on the screen was too, of course.

But that wasn't Mimi's Keira.

She would never get her best friend back.

**Eight-Elorica**

She sits completely still.

All around Elorica, peach-colored walls corner her.

Next to her, a small crib. She rocks it with her hand, humming a little song to herself. There is no baby in the crib. It doesn't matter.

She's only trying to distract herself.

How could she think it would work?

It doesn't.

The picture of Casper on that screen will remain in her head. The way he sat up, forcing himself to look proud and at ease, even though she knew he was crumbling. Elorica knows her husband well enough by now. And she knows herself well enough to know that she can't possibly distract herself from thoughts of him.

But he would hate to see her like this.

So she forces herself to go through the motions. For him. It's easier when she thinks of it like that.

She gets up and fixes herself a mug of tea. It warms her up, inside and out. The motions are so familiar. After all, she and Casper have tea every night. It's her favorite time of the day.

He's exhausted from a long day at his work, but manages to talk to her long into the night all the same. That is just the person he is.

Sometimes they would talk about their wishes. Not so much wishes, but more of fantasies. They were fantasies because of their impossibility. Getting away from this whole place was one of them. Somehow things turning out so that their daughter wouldn't have to start working at the factories when she was still young. Having enough food. And most of all, just being safe.

All impossibilities.

Because it is utterly impossible to get away from Eight or the nation.

There's nowhere to go and noway to get there.

Star will have to be a child worker. How else could they not starve? Especially if Casper never returns home. And he can't possibly, can he?

And there is never enough food. Never.

Most of all, there is noway to feel safe.

Safety is a feeling no one in any of the districts will ever have. Not with the children suddenly disappearing. Here one day and gone the next, just like that. Empty desks in the school that no one talks about. Empty spots in lines, places left unfilled at factories. Beds forever to remain un-slept in.

Families torn apart.

A tear falls into the cup. How could she have been so naive?

Fantasies, all of them.

To think she once thought they were safe. That everything would be okay.

The curtains around her are all shut. The blinds on the window have been drawn for the past week. She hasn't gone outside at night yet at all.

Because the last thing Elorica wants to see now is a sky full of stars.

**Nine-Jon Kingly**

He stares into the room.

Perfectly clean and well-kept. Just as it was. Such a neat girl, Thorn is.

Her bed is still made so perfectly that he's sure he can bounce a coin on it. The pillows march across and the desk is organized.

Still, something isn't right.

A thin layer of dust has begun to accumulate over her things. The painting she did of a field at sunset, set in a frame now slightly grimy. A mirror covered in spots. Jon picks up a bracelet off the desk, rubbing his finger along the polished stone. Not so polished now.

The dust is the first sign that his daughter is gone.

Can't be for long, though. No, Jon refuses to admit otherwise. His daughter is coming home. It's only as if she's taken a little…vacation. Seeing the Capital! Yes, that's where she is. Sleeping in an ornate, silky bed and dining on delicacies.

He's heard the weather is wonderful there this time of year.

Sixteen is too young to die. It's not even a word in his vocabulary. Children don't die. It's not the way of things.

Well, some will have to. Cruel, how things work. There's nothing he can do. But his daughter isn't one of them.

Her name will be remembered for doing something other than dying, if he can help it.

She will be remembered for _surviving._

He sits down on the stiff bed and looks around.

The walls are a soft golden color and the floor is wooden. It is sparsely furnished for a mayor's daughter, the mirror being the only sign of ornateness and wealth. To just anyone, it seems an unremarkable room.

Not to him.

For, upon closer observance, there are several very odd things in the place.

Or, rather, underneath it.

One old floorboard is slightly out of place. If Jon looks closely enough, he can see a little space under it. Like a cellar, only much, much smaller. It's about two feet deep and four feet wide. Mothballs collect in the space and he grazes his hand on one. He knows what's under there. He's seen it several times.

Weapons.

Daggers of all sizes. There are ones that seem as bony and angular as Thorn herself. Others are thick and sure to get the job done. Curved, dainty ones designed to inflict pain with their sharpness. A belt of throwing knives is shoved in the back of the space. As if Thorn was almost ashamed of it all.

Jon thinks she probably is.

To just anyone, this would be highly unnerving and probably pretty disturbing.

To Jon, it is how he will get his daughter back.

Because sixteen is too young to just be gone.

**Nine- Zea James**

The little hut has never seemed darker.

Zea busies her fingers by sewing up a tear in her husband's shirt. He sleeps quietly on a blanket on the ground next to her. The low fire has been burned down to glowing embers.

A warm breeze makes the grain outside the window shift.

The fire is only lit to keep away insects and other pests. Zea has lit one every night for as long as she can remember. To protect her boys.

It was only habit that drove her to light this one.

She weakly tried to convince her husband otherwise. She'd said it was because she was going to fix herself some tea. She wanted to keep the mosquitos away too, of course. The rats could come and chew up all their bread. She needed light to see the shirt she was working on.

He didn't care. He knew.

In the corner of the tiny shack they called home, another makeshift bed stood. The covers were rumpled and the sheets were torn.

The bed where her sons slept.

Zea knew that Tosh's death had been her fault.

It wasn't just guilt. So many people thought it was. They gave her pats on her back and sympathetic looks. They would smiles oh so softly and sadly at her, as if she was a small child who knew nothing at all.

"It wasn't your fault." They would say. "It's just survivor's guilt, that's all. And as his mother, of course you think you are responsible. But that is wrong, Zea!"

_No, you are wrong. _Is what Zea would think.

Guilt. Of course she felt that. But it wasn't only the sadness and depression that came with losing a child. Oh, it was so much more than that. It was a _knowing. _One that had forced its way up from way deep down inside her, roaring like an animal and begging to be heard.

This was no silent suspicion that came silently and slowly creeping up on her.

It was a searing pain flooding every inch of her.

Because her son was gone. And it was her fault.

How quiet the house had seemed then. Everything had seemed so quiet.

And she thought it couldn't possibly get any more silent.

Now it is.

Once again, it is her fault.

She let him go.

**Ten-Sam**

The straw itches at Sam's back.

He wonders how Howl could stand being up here. What a discomfort. How could she have slept?

Then he laughs to himself softly. She's a tough kid. Tough as leather, that's right. Didn't let no one forget that easily, that's for sure.

Sam doesn't know why he's up here. He's never gone into the silo before. It just seemed like he was invading the girl's privacy. Howl, he knows, was a very private girl. Inside and out, that's right. She kept her secrets all locked up and Sam had no business finding them out.

Wait a minute. Sam bolts up out of his deep in thought trance.

Why was he thinking about her in the past tense?

She's still alive. Not here, that's all. Sleeping in a place that's pretty darn comfier than this hard wood and straw covered nest of hers.

He runs a finger through his wild hair. Tomorrow. That he doesn't know about.

Sam cringes. Pictures run through his head at the speed of light. Little kids in pools of blood, younger even than Howl. Running through trees trying to escape what's only sure to happen to them anyways. Screaming at the top of their lungs for someone, anyone, to come to save them. To help them.

No one ever does.

Why is that? That the kids always cry out for help before _that _happens? It's like they expect someone to come crashing out of the trees, right on their side.

They don't have anyone on their side.

Now wait. Sam scrunches his eyebrows. Howl does. She has someone on her side. That other kid from the district, Oak.

An ally. He isn't so sure about that, though. Trust takes so long to form and can break in a second.

For Howl, that could mean a very, very painful second.

She's a smart girl. Sam knows it. He's always telling she's smart, right? Quick-thinking as a jackrabbit, that's what he used to tell her. And she would laugh and laugh like he'd said the funniest thing in the world, even though it was true. Sam loved to see her laugh.

She was his little sister, that girl was.

He hopes with every ounce in him that this Oak boy takes good care of her.

And that Howl takes care of herself.

Here, in the silo, he feels close to her. Her smell and the whole air about her is everywhere. Like she was only here a moment ago.

Howl will come back. Even though, deep down, Sam knows that it's impossible, he still tells himself this.

She'll be right here soon enough.

Besides, more than anything he doesn't want to speak in the past about her again.

**Ten-Agnes**

Agnes knows she shouldn't be here.

It's the middle of the night. She's in her nightgown and she can only see the lights of her house.

Here on the hill that Oak takes the sheep to though, everything seems better. So much more peaceful.

She can finally be away from all the yelling and crying at home. Poor Lara just finished with another bout of terrible crying over how her big brother isn't here to whisper little stories at night. Dale, even though at nine he holds himself to old to cry, is sobbing away into his pillow. Agnes couldn't sleep no matter how hard she tried. And Dale's crying set off little Remus, who at four has no idea what's going on, only that something is really wrong.

And Agnes's father and Grandpa Angus and Oak's father are still shouting so loud that the windows are breaking.

So over the past few days, little Agnes has come to learn that everyone has different ways of dealing with a son, grandson, brother, cousin and friend's coming death.

Some rant and rave about it, like Boris (Oak's oldest brother) and Uncle and Grandpa. They shout about how unfair it all is, that a boy as young as Oak was chosen. That everything about anything is unfair.

Then people like her mother and aunt just use each other for comfort, crying as silently as possible into old scraps of fabric and each other.

Her cousin, seventeen year old Benjamin, just shut himself off completely.

Agnes though, prefers to do her grieving alone.

_Thinking. _As she prefers to call it.

And this place, Oak and her favorite hide out, is the perfect spot to be alone.

Once, four weeks ago when the weather was warming, Oak took her out here at night. They laid on their backs and looked at the sky and laughed about their enormous family. they were so happy to be away from it all! And Agnes is pretty sure Oak would have been even happier completely alone, but he let her stay anyway.

The night is just the same as that one, which is why Agnes has come here.

She folds her knees up at her chest and watches the shape of the grass move in the dark. The moon is full tonight, and very bright. Lights from the houses in their little valley twinkle and glow, making it all look so peaceful.

Like everything is going to be okay.

And Agnes starts to cry softly because she knows it isn't.

She's mad at those little houses, with the perfect, happy families inside them, just coming in after another day of work. Sleeping or talking or even laughing. Families still grateful that their children aren't where Oak is now.

Maybe they are even happy he is gone.

All because of an accident.

Agnes buries her face in her hands. Their is nothing so terrible as the feeling of loneliness.

**Eleven-Velvet**

Velvet's heart is beating so quickly, it's a wonder it doesn't beat right out of her chest.

Which is why she's here in the first place.

She's come up to the roof of the huge building all the tributes are staying in. Her mentor told her it would be a good idea. A Capital mentor. Velvet's proud of that fact, as she's sure one from her own district would be useless.

She's taken an elevator up here and the breeze greets her instantly. The lights from all the buildings form a haze that hangs low in the sky, making it look bright even though it must be past ten already.

See? This was a good idea. She sighs and crosses her arms. It's good to have some peace and quiet to think about strategy.

For Velvet, that means deciding exactly when to kill whoever has made her list.

Velvet leans against a railing overlooking the busy street below and ponders The List. She's probably the only one who made one, though she wouldn't put Shimmer or even Katerina past it. The List has kept her mind working and sane these past few days. It's something to think about, all right.

Contrary to what many may think, The List is no product of insanity or hatred. Velvet doesn't _hate _any of these kids. She barely even knows them, right?

It's just a blueprint. One that must be carried through, whether she likes it or not.

She has always been a very careful, methodical person.

To her, this is merely an execution of a well thought out plan.

For outer-Career threats, she's planning on getting rid of Casper first. It'll be a cause for tears as the young man has built up quite the sob story, but Velvet knows she won't think much of it. That's just the way it is. That small girl with a bit of a surprising score, Howleen (what a weird name) will be next. And while she's at it, her lover and ally too.

The Careers will be easiest of all. A little slit with her dagger.

Shimmer will be first.

Velvet is lost in her morbid plans when suddenly, she hears faith voices.

She is not alone.

Velvet silently creeps up to the elevator and the wall around. Careful not to make herself hear, she peers around it to the other half of the roof, where a tiny garden stands.

And in that garden stand two figures, a boy and a girl.

Adonis and Kaja.

Thrusting her hand over her mouth, Velvet stifles a gasp. Well, look at that. Since when did the Death Games become all soft and love-y like this? For God's sake, those to can't have known each other for more than a week. It all seems so ridiculous.

Velvet isn't gasping just at the sight of them, though. She isn't a very easily surprised person at all.

She's gasping because she just saw the two kiss.

**Eleven-Gav**

Gav has no idea what's happening beyond hid room's walls.

He has no clue of what's going on in that rooftop garden, with Adonis and Kaja exchanging words and fears and kissing because both know their time could be limited.

No, he's unaware of it all.

He has his own problems.

For one, he can't sleep. The reasons for this are quite obvious. Gav knows he should be asleep. How will he be able to run tomorrow if he's so tired his feet won't budge?

It feels like very worry he has, every pain, is lying right on top of him.

His mother. What is she doing now? How is she taking care of all those little guys without him? Azalea's probably trying to comfort Lily and Willy and Olive and Basil. He hates himself for fighting with her all the time the way he did. And he hates himself for the way he treated India. He still doesn't know why he said what he did.

And then there is Jezi. Even though she's his own age, he still feels like he has to take care of her. They're allies, even if it seems strange that he would ally with someone like her.

But Jezi is a good companion and whip-smart.

Gav just doesn't know if that's enough.

It won't be. It never is.

He thrusts his pillow over his head.

How many mistakes has he made? How many times has he messed things up?

Too many to even try to count.

India was so happy. So blissfuly unaware. Why did he have to take that away from her? At least then, she could die peacefully. As peacefully as it can get in that place, anyway. But he didn't give her even that dignity. Maybe he did it because he was jealous. Yes, that's it. Some part of him he didn't even know wanted that for himself.

Because in the end, sometime it's better to not know anything at all.

So this is it then.

Tomorrow is the day.

Gav squeezes his eyes shut. He can't imagine what it would feel like. Not even a little.

Dying.

It's just not possible. It can't happen.

Finally, he drifts off to sleep.

**Twelve-Wagner**

Wagner doesn't know a of things.

She doesn't like to admit that, but at six years old, she knows it's true. There are just so many things out there that she doesn't understand.

Like why her sister still hasn't come back.

They're sleeping in the concrete basement of an abandoned building. There are a lot of those around here in Twelve, Melleby says. She says that's a good thing because it means the girls have a place to sleep. Tonight, they're sleeping with a whole bunch of other kids.

Since Jezi's leaving, the girls have taken to going back to sleep with the boy Twig's group of pickpockets, thieves and runaways.

Mell says it's only for a little while. They lost the best pickpocket in the group, since Wagner is too little and Kelsie is definitely. Mel was never much of a their anyways.

Wagner isn't sure how she feels about this place. It smells bad and her tummy is rumbling, but at least Mel says they're safe.

Yes, rundown buildings make good places to sleep and not get rained on.

But to Wagner, they seem kinda sad.

All gray, with their paint peeling and everything falling and rotting. They sag and seem like they're frowning.

Jezi used to tease Wagner for her wild imagination, but to Wagner things seem simple.

The building is sad because it is alone.

Just like her.

Sure, she has Mel. But it isn't the same. She wants Jezi back. Jezi always braided her hair before bed, which Mel forgot to do. And Jezi used to make up stories with Mel to make Wagner and Kelsie laugh. Mel said she didn't want to make up stories tonight.

She doesn't feel like laughing anymore.

Whatever happened to Jezi, it must have been bad.

Wherever she is now, it must be really scary.

Wagner doesn't know a lot of things.

But there are certain things she can understand.

Like how right now, it doesn't look like her sister is coming back.


	26. The Bloodbath

**A/N Drumroll please! Here it is, people! The beginning of the end….duhn duhn duhn. But here comes the all important author's note on a very crucial matter. Okay, we all know that some of these guys are gonna have to die. And not just in this chapter alone. In every chapter to follow, there will be at least one death. So yes, as chance would have it, your character will probably die. And you submitted to this thing knowing that, right? You should be cool with the fact that your beloved "baby" is likely going to die a violent death.**

**That said, don't think what I'm saying here is "I'm gonna kill whoever the heck I want whenever I want." Goodness no! I'm not THAT psycho. Every death should contribute to the story line and said character won't just drop off the face of the earth unacknowledged. They will be continuously mentioned! **

**Please PM me if you are having any concerns about this or you simply do not trust me with the matter of death at all. That would be understandable.**

**Twelve-Emmett's POV**

Emmett has finally begun to sense a change in his room.

The shadows are shifting. The air seems heavier and everything is flooded with pale light.

Morning.

He groans softly. He has never wanted anything more than for this day to never come.

He's exhausted. Of course, he didn't get any sleep at all last night. It wasn't just because he was so scared for his best friend that his eyes just wouldn't shut. His heart was pounding so hard, the noise kept him up all night anyway. Like a big drum beating right inside his head.

That's not it, though.

Some tiny part of him, stupid as it sounds, was convinced that by staying up all night, he could somehow not make today come. By surrendering himself to sleep, it would be like accepting it.

And one thing Emmett will never do is accept any of this.

It's morning now. The morning his best friend could die.

Now that same part of him tells him that it's is fault.

If only he hadn't closed his eyes. Whatever he tried to do last night didn't work.

Because today is here.

Would Cadence be mad at him?

No. Cadence can't carry anger in him at all. Not even when Harmony died, was he angry. His little sister was dead, but he felt nothing but grief for her. Not anger at the universe itself, for all that had happened. For just letting children die like that.

Children aren't supposed to die.

Just because Cadence is eighteen and older than most of the kids there, doesn't make it any less disgusting.

Especially since there are younger kids there.

Emmett burns with anger when he thinks of all those lives cut short.

Like someone had a string and then picked up a big pair of scissors and made a clean, quick slice.

And just like that, they are gone.

Think of all those people affected by that cut. The mothers who will never hold their children again. Emmett's seen enough kids in this place die long before their time. So he knows that there's worse than losing a child. He thinks of all those fathers, trying to be strong for their wives and remaining children, but human just the same.

Emmett thinks of the younger siblings, wondering why their brother or sister hasn't come home. Older siblings, feeling like this all just a game of hide and seek they and their most special friend used to play when they were little.

Wondering why their little sibling could be hiding for so long.

The friends.

It's morning.

And there's nothing Emmett can do to change that.

**Cadence Basil's POV**

A harsh beeping noise jolts me awake.

I must have slept somehow.

Already, light has flooded the room through the huge, arching windows. The time on the clock next to me reads 7:30.

I get out of bed just as my heart begins a rapid incline. Steadily, it beats faster and faster as the reality of what today is sets in.

Now, I can't even stop my fingers from shaking.

Listening to the rush of blood in my ears, I throw on some clothes that I don't bother to get a look at. The stylist told me that I'm just going to be fitted into whatever it is I have to wear later on. Every year it's different. By putting on the clothes, I'll have a clue of what the place will look like.

Not that I care.

The place you die is the place you die, enough said.

It's still a mystery to me, why I haven't seen anyone crying.

Think about it. We're all children. Children cry and that's a fact. I haven't even seen those twelve year olds shed a tear. You can't convince me that no one here is at least a little terrified at the fact that we are going to die.

Maybe the fact just hasn't sunk into anyone yet.

I'm having trouble comprehending it to.

_It's better not to. _That's what the mentor said. _Just live in the present moment and let the future come when it does._

It doesn't feel like it's me, when I walk into the main room down the hall. I don't register that footsteps I'm taking or the color of the paint on the wall or what sort of design is on the carpet. Feels like I can't even see anything, really. I'm in a haze. And I don't know if that's how I want to be or not.

On the one hand, being in a haze like this could be terrible because it means that I'm not alert. That I can't think right.

That could be bad news for the "flight or fight response" that is so crucial.

And if I die, I think I'd want to be able to be aware of the moment, it being my last.

Though I haven't given it much thought.

But on the other hand, being in a haze and not in reality entirely could have its obvious benefits.

Maybe I'll feel less pain when "it" comes.

The room is filled with food.

On the crystal-clear table, platters of fruit fill the middle of it. Since I got here, I can never get used to the extreme brightness of these fruits, much like the rest of this place. I just want the old comfortable grays and greens and earthy browns of my own home. There was no orange or red at all.

Apples piled high next to a platter of oranges and yellow bananas.

Jezebelle, looking very small sitting between all the adults, sits listlessly peeling one. Her fingers work like another mechanism entirely.

Seems Jezi, little as she is, has managed to work her way into a haze of her own.

Maybe she's smarter than we give her credit for.

Royale, the Capital-appointed mentor, nods gruffly at me from across the table. A mug of coffee is in his hand. He leans back in his chair, trying to look nonchalant.

But even I can see that his fingers are shaking.

"You planning on eating anything, Cadence?" He asks, in a voice as rough as his unshaven face. It's pretty obvious that he doesn't fit in with most of the people around here. Which is probably why he chose this job in the first place, despite it probably being one of the lease desirable ones.

I try to answer, but it comes out nothing but a strange mumbling noise instead. It feels like my heart is beating so hard, my vocal chords have stopped working.

Royale takes that as his answer. "Take a look at Jezebelle over there. Might want to take a hint. Look, neither you or I know the next time you're going to be getting food." He pauses and raises his eyes to meet mine.

"And frankly Cadence," He adds, "Starving to death isn't exactly the most noble way to go."

I nod stiffly back at him and jam some eggs down my throat without thinking twice.

Guess a part of me is like that. Back home, if we saw food, it was in our mouths faster that anyone could blink. That was that and no questions asked.

Even here, I'm no different.

Under Royale's watchful eye, I choke down some orange juice too.

He pushes his chair back from the table. "All right you two. We have to get over to the launch pad now."

Jezi clears her throat. "The launch pad?!"

"Yes Jezi. On the roof there's a launch pad that the hovercraft you're taking is on."

Jezi can hardly contain her fear the whole way up on the elevator.

Neither can I.

A breeze rushes into my face on the launchpad. But I look up, and realize _that was not a breeze. _An enormous gray metallic thing sits right in front of us. It's gigantic propellers in the back blow gusts of air everywhere. A huge whirring sound fills the air, People are shouting to be heard over the noise.

Next to me, Jezi starts to tremble.

Ignoring the fact that my own hand is shaking, I bend down next to her. "Jezi, don't tremble. Okay? Think good thoughts. Like the moment before the Reaping when I you had one of my cookies. Or think of how nice a dress you got to wear last night. Anything. For me, okay?"

She nods, focusing on the air in front of her.

Before I give myself time to think anything of it, I start walking up the ramp to the hovercraft.

Jezi follows right by my side.

Inside, most of the tributes are already in their seats, fastened in by strange things going over their heads.

Where do I go?

Hesitantly, I pick an empty seat next to Casper from Eight, grateful that I'm sitting next to my ally. On Casper's other side, my second ally stares at the floor and is clearly trying to breathe deeply to calm her system. In more ways than one. Aya's not looking so okay at all.

The pair from Eleven come on last, with the scarlet haired girl Velvet taking a seat next to me.

I can't help notice that when we take off, she's smiling.

The ride is smooth and short. Far too short. Most of the kids on here are doing the same thing as Aya, staring at the ground and taking deep breaths. Jimmy from Five has his head buried in his hands and Kaja drums her fingers on the side of her seat, clearly doing some mental planning.

But I can't. How could someone plan for any of this?

Suddenly, the craft comes to an abrupt stop.

That's it.

We're here.

Velvet practically jumps out of her seat. But most of us take it a little slower.

We're inside a huge room that I'm guessing is underground. Under the arena, probably.

Two by two, all of us start to be led down a series of hallways. Each is marked with a number up to Twelve.

When I see Kaja and Adonis walk down their hallway, I'm pretty sure I see the two brushing hands.

I nudge my little district partner's shoulder and we go down our own hallway.

I turn into a door marked 12-M.

Inside is a small room with a changing area and a clear tube going straight through it vertically.

I know where that thing goes.

My stylist, Dymphna Mink, turns around from running her fingers slowly over the clothes on a hanger. She ponders them quietly, chewing her lip. Then, she stares at me and looks me over. Dymphna nods to herself, in deep conversation with herself.

"All right then." She says to herself. "All right then."

I want to ask her if she has any clues as to what the arena might be. Just to talk to someone. But it's like my mouth is completely shut. Again, all that comes out is a little sigh of air.

Dymphna waves her hand, which is covered in pink rings, at me. "Now go try that on and come right out. You don't have much time. I'll give you your token when you come out."

She tosses the bundle of clothes at me and I rush to put them on. Dark green pants that come just below my knee made of some light fabric and covered in pockets. A brown t-shirt. I fumble around for a jacket, but there is none.

That's odd.

But the strangest thing are the shoes. Or boots, rather. They're black and have special traction on them to make it easier to run. They're definitely for the water.

Water. Okay, so I most likely won't die of dehydration.

Dymphna chews her lip some more when she sees the clothes on me. "No jacket, Cadence. Either it's going to be hotter than hell in that arena, or this is all some kind of cruel joke."

That's when a booming voice over the speakers in our room starts counting down.

_60_

_59_

_58_

A little gasp comes out of Dymphna's lips and she thrusts my token into my hands. A small beaded bracelet of Harmony's I carry in my pocket all the time.

"Go!" She says urgently to me.

"Go? Go where?!"

"There! In the tube!"

Of course. I have to get inside that thing.

I pocket the bracelet. The pants are full of pockets, which I guess is useful. For putting food in and all that. And concealing weapons. I don't know if I'll be doing any of that, though. I did make a promise to Ree and Emmett that I intend to keep. I'm the kind of guy who keep his promises.

The door to the tube closes shut. It suddenly feels very cramped in here.

There's no sound but my heart beating wilder than it ever has before.

I'm thrust upward.

And into blinding sunlight.

The next thing I register, besides the sunlight, is the humidity. As soon as I surface, it feels like a hot, wet blanket has just been tossed on me.

_39_

_38_

_37_

I'm on a little platform, just wide enough for me to stand on. When I look down, instantly I note that the ground is wet. Very wet. Tall grasses surround my platform, growing on a thick layer of mud and water.

That's going to make this very hard. It isn't easy to sprint in a foot high of mud.

The Cornucopia rises in the center, looking surprisingly small. Maybe because water and plants are obviously in abundance.

Framing the field are trees. Hundreds of them. They grow up from the ground, knurled and twisted. Enormous roots rise up with them, exposed in the air. They form systems, large enough to hide in. The tree tops are a shade of green so dark it's almost black.

These are not like any trees I've ever seen.

A series of paths wind through the trees.

They're dirt and rise slightly above the sodden ground, so wet that I couldn't run in it if I try.

Getting on one of those paths that travel deep into the groves of trees is the only way out.

This is a swamp.

**Jezebelle Holden's POV**

I've only been up here a few seconds and already my palms are sweating.

I can't tell whether it's because I'm too scared and filled with that adrenaline my mentor was talking to me about. Or if it's just the fact that the heat up here is so heavy it's hard to breathe.

_36_

_35_

_34_

Gav is right next to me, on my left side. He stares straight ahead at the huge metal thing with all the supplies in it.

He better not be thinking of running. If he runs toward that thing, I don't have a choice. I can't stick around and wait for him to probably get killed all so he can grab a box of crackers or a pocketknife or something. I can't wait for him here, or we'll both be dead in seconds.

All I know is, this place right here, with its mud ground and bug filled air, is not where I want to die.

_29_

_28_

_27_

On my other side is Jimmy Thrine from Five. I breathe a little sigh of relief, but it comes out all shaky.

Can't even breathe if I wanted to.

Least I know that Jimmy probably won't tackle me down first thing. He's probably got the same idea me and Gav have. Well, I dunno about Gav cause he just might go and pull something stupid. But as for me, I'm heading straight toward one of those paths above the ground over not to far from here.

I'm running straight into those trees and not looking back.

And Gav, if the boy has any sense about him at all, will follow.

I may be only ten years old, but stupid is one thing I'm not.

Suicidal is another.

_19_

_18_

_17_

I look around wildly for Kaja. Where is she?

She's our leader. We have a plan. None of us runs to get supplies except for her and Thorn. I know Kaja is going cause she had some training before she dropped out. I'm not sure why Thorn is. It's not like she got a great score or anything. Actually, I'm pretty sure I scored higher than her.

But I'm little, so that's that.

Besides, who am I to argue? I'm so scared right now I can barely even think.

Gav and me and Raen and Jimmy too are supposed to take off and hide anywhere near a place where there's water. We mark the tree we're near with a little black X from whatever rock we can find to make a mark like that. They'll try to find us if they can.

If they're not dead already.

Not sure if I like that plan all that much.

_10_

_9_

_8_

The voice is nearing one.

I take another deep breath and this time, it works. Just focus on where I am right now.

Take in the surroundings. That's what Royale said. Focus on all the little details and whatever I do, I'm not supposed to let my mind wander. Back to bad stuff. Like dying a bloody death, for one thing.

Okay, the trees are real dense. That's good. Means I'll be able to hide. Their roots come above the ground, which I have never, ever seen before. Not really ground. More like shallow, muddy water. The only dry land can be found on the risen dirt paths.

They go out of the center we're in now like a wheel.

So as long as I make it one of those, I guess I'll make it out alive.

Except for one thing.

Those paths are pretty narrow.

If I'm being followed, I'm good as dead.

_6_

_5_

_4_

This is it.

This is everything. Everything could come to a stop right now.

My whole life, just stopped like that.

Well, I'm not gonna let it.

_3_

_2_

_1_

A shattering _boom _sounds. Like a gigantic gong going off. The platform beneath my feet gives a little shake.

My feet stay rooted on it.

Because suddenly, I've never felt so lost.

Everywhere around me, people have started running. Anna from Six's hair, pulled back in a dark ponytail like mine, whips behind her as she runs fearlessly towards the weapons without a second thought. Adonis and Julian run through the structure, looking for their weapons. Shimmer runs, but still manages to look at everyone.

_She's picking out her first victim._

That thought is all I need to get my feet moving. I force myself not to think anything of it and jump off the small platform.

The second I jump off, my boots are covered in mud. And I groan a little. This is going to be hard. But who said any part of this was gonna be easy?

I push on, determined to reach one of those paths.

Once I get to one, I'll be able to really run. And then I can find some place to hide. Me, Gav, Raen, Jimmy and India too.

It'll be okay.

That's when I hear a terrible scream. It makes the hair on my neck stand up. It doesn't even sound human.

I can't help it. I throw my head back to look.

Shimmer, her blond hair escaping her bunk and whipping wildly around her, holds a spear. She points it down. Right down at India. I know it's India right away. I can tell by the olive skin and that black braid she always wears. India's sprawled out on the ground. Shimmer must have tripped her. India struggles wildly to get up from the water-logged ground, but keeps slipping in the mud.

She's stuck.

India lets out another hair-raising wail. All that light that was in her eyes yesterday is completely gone. Like it wasn't even there.

It's gone cause now her eyes are filled with fear.

Shimmer thrusts the spear into the ground.

Quickly, I turn my eyes away and keep sprinting.

Only this time, there are tears falling all down my face.

I've barely made it a few more feet when I'm jerked backward.

A rush of fear goes through me lightning fast. _Somebody's got my foot. Gav, where are you?! Somebody's got my foot!_

But when I turn around, all I see is that I'm stuck in some mud hole, not a few feet from the nearest path.

I try to yank my boot out as quickly as possible, but not before I see all these terrible things. Things I hope no kid my age or any kid or anybody ever will have to see in their lives. Cause if I somehow manage to live through this, there is no way I can just forget anything of what I'm seeing.

Jake is making a run for the same path as me when Jace from Three jerks him back by his collar. Jake tries to pry Jace's fingers off of him, but Jace is too strong.

Before I can blink, I see a point of metallic silver coming out of Jake's chest.

My mind doesn't even get it at first, slowed by all the fear bottled up in me.

Then it hits me.

That's a machete going through Jake Rittler's chest. And the reddish brown stuff on his shirt is his blood.

I don't have time to scream before I see another one go down.

This time, it's another one of my allies.

Velvet and Katerina have cornered Jimmy. His back is against the metal thing. Right next to him, Adonis and Julian go through the supplies like nothing is happening at all. Julian picks up a belt of daggers just in time to see Velvet draw a cruel, curved blade from a belt of her own.

Sweat pours down Jimmy's face. His feet are sinking fast into the mud. Desperate, his eyes grow real wide. Like a rabbit before you decide to cook him.

_That's my ally! _I want to scream at them. Why can't they just leave him alone? Those damn Careers have already killed another of my allies. They're gonna leave me with nobody, if they let me get out of here alive.

Jimmy tires to make a run for it, but Velvet plunges her knife right into his side.

He blinks a few times and sways slightly. Katerina walks over to where Velvet stands, not sure what to do. They make eye contact, the cruel things, deciding whether or not to stab him again.

But Jimmy falls to the ground in a crumpled heap, all the answer they need.

There is no mistaking it. Katerina smiles when she walks away from his body. Smiles.

Disgust fills me so much that I don't even think about getting my boot out of the mud anymore. Nobody's noticed me back here yet. Not even Gav or any of my allies. The ones that are still alive.

Then, I see Thorn running to a rack of weapons. Her sharp face looks even sharper than usual and her big brown eyes are completely focused on those daggers.

So focused that she doesn't notice Julian pull out his own dagger right behind her.

No. Not Thorn. I make a silent plea to anyone. Anything. Just don't take Thorn away. Two of my allies are dead already. I can't find Kaja, who is supposed to be our leader. I thought I saw Gav rushing by in a flash of dark skin, but I don't know where he went. Raen, one of my allies is looking lost just staring at Thorn. The two are close.

Don't take her. For Raen.

And in the most twisted, sick way possible, my wish gets granted.

Cadence, my district partner, comes out of nowhere, tackling Julian to the ground.

The two wrestle for a moment, but it's pretty clear who the winner will be.

Julian walks away from Cadence's now blood-soaked body. He takes a look at his dagger which is covered in that awful red-brown and makes a face of disgust. But that's it. In a moment, he's back to Adonis's side.

Then, next to me, there's a flash of dark skin.

"Jezi, what are you doing?!" Gav yells.

I gesture helplessly to my stuck foot. "Just go, Gav." I'm really crying now. "Please, just run. I'm stuck here and I won't get out. That's it, Gav."

But he shakes his head and I feel a pain under my arms as he yanks me out. "No, this isn't it!" He yells, red in the face from the effort of pulling me out. "I'm not leaving you behind, Jezebelle. You're my ally."

The boot's finally come out of the mud.

Together, we reach one of the raises dirt paths. We sprint into a covering of dense trees.

Not before we witness one more kill, though.

I finally spot Kaja. She's darting in between racks of weapons, trying to hide her face. Her honey blond hair sticks out behind a row of bows and arrows. Casper runs to grab one without giving her a second glance. And I breathe a sigh of relief. He isn't out to kill. Not yet, anyway.

Someone is, though.

I want to scream. To give Kaja a warning. Anything! She is me and Gav's ally and our leader.

Gav sees the look on my face and gives me a sad, but harsh, warning look. As if to say; _We made it this far. It'd be just plain stupid to give us away now._

Anna Corinna, with her black ponytail and steely gray eyes, has just lowered a huge knife right against Kaja's throat.

Kaja doesn't even have time to scream.

I see the blood before anyone can pull me away. A slow river comes running out of her throat. Kaja struggles for a moment, making noises that sound like an animal.

She thrashes her arms around, desperately trying to get her killer off.

Nothing works.

In just a second, she's gone silent.

Adonis runs over with a look of rage on his face. Anna sprints off.

I've never seen anybody run so fast. She outruns Adonis in seconds. Adonis, tough as he is, isn't a very fast runner I guess. Some barbaric and harsh part of my damn brain makes a note of that. I want to pinch myself for even thinking like that. My ally is dying and all I can think about is how Adonis can be outrun.

Anna disappears into the dark trees on one of the paths.

Gav stands next to me, frozen with a look of fear on his face.

Kaja is curled on the ground, surrounded by blood. It stains the green grass all around her.

Adonis bends down and grabs her hand.

He's holding hands with a corpse.

Gav and I finally manage to run away from the bloody scene, panting wit tear tracks down our faces the whole way.

We don't know where we're running to. We just crash through trees and push vines hanging in the way out of our faces. The vines are everywhere. We run past roots above the water and lily pads with frogs on them. We run around and through deep mud puddles in the middle of the path. Under and between little circles poking out from between the roof of leaves above us.

We just run.

When I look down, I realize that Gav has grabbed my hand.

"What about our allies?" I whisper to him.

"Forget about the rest of them. Kaja's dead anyway now." He pants.

"Jimmy's dead too." I tell him in a flat voice.

Neither of us say anything about India. But he knows. I can tell that he knows.

Did he see her death? The way her eyes suddenly filled with terror? The way her mouth hung open, not ready to believe what was coming to her? She couldn't believe it. India always refused to hear any talk of death. And now she's dead.

It feels like a big metal weight just dropped into my stomach.

Eventually, we reach a little lagoon. The path widens a little onto a stone strand of beach. Just a little one on the banks of the lagoon, but large enough for me and Gav to fit on and sleep on it.

Gav kicks at one of the stones and stares down at the murky water. A few lily pads fill it and strange, curling water plants make their way up.

"Guess this is the place." My voice sounds so soft.

"Yeah. We can hide in those roots or the trunk of that tree right there." Gav points to a tree that's set on our little beach.

A small creek flows into the lagoon. "The water's probably safe to drink." I think for a moment. "Don't think they'd just poison every water system in here."

Gav sits down on a rock covered in sun and moss. "No, they wouldn't. Just don't go into the water cause I don't know what kind of nasty mutts and critters are in there."

Neither of us talks much after that. We just sit on that rock and stare at the water. The mud in it swirls it all in brown designs. It's impossible for me to see the bottom. Shoots of plants grow out of the water. That's good. Mostly plants that grow by the water side aren't poisonous.

We won't starve to death either.

I would never say it, but I think that those who starve to death in this place are almost lucky.

Almost.

Don't think anyone ever has, though. Starving to death takes a little while and usually this thing is done in a few days.

My stomach swirls. All kinds of nasty, burning stuff seems to be in there.

Suddenly, I feel sick.

All those terrible pictures are still in my mind. And they aren't gonna leave. Ever.

How could Kaja be dead? How could any of them be dead?

They were alive just this morning.

Why would Anna kill Kaja?

Where could she be now?

"Gav?" I poke him in the ribs softly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we're safe here? In this place, I mean. Cause Anna could be right around here. Or somebody else bad."

Gav shakes his head. "I think we're okay for now."

He stares down at the water.

"Then again." He whispers. "It's not like we're ever gonna be safe in this place. Not ever."

**A/N And that's the end of our Bloodbath. **

**It was a little shorter than some of the chapters, but hopefully you didn't notice that too much. It was a small Bloodbath with not too many deaths. That's in part due to the awesomeness of many of the characters. It's also because most of our Careers aren't really that barbaric.**

**Here is a list of the dead:**

**D1-Katherine Jasmine Thomas**

**D5-Jimmy Thrine**

**D6-Jake Rittler**

**D7-India Gyfer**

**D12-Cadence Basil**

**Songs:**

**I know a lot of you like having songs for you characters, so I did come up with some.**

**Kaja's song is Shake it Out by Florence and the Machine. It's meant to represent her feelings about falling in love right before her death. It goes like this:**

And, I am done with my graceless heart

So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

Cause I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out,

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off,

And given half the chance would I take any of it back

It's a fine romance but its left me so undone

It's always darkest before the dawn

And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't

So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road

And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope

It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat

Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me

Looking for heaven, found the devil in me

Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me

**Jimmy's song is Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. It shows his connection to his sister and how hard it is for him to let go.**

Well, I've been afraid of changing

'Cause I, I built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Children get older

I'm getting older too

I'm getting older too

So, take my love, take it down

Oh climb a mountain and turn around

If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well the landslide will bring you down, down

**Jake's song (as suggested by purpleandblackattack) is Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd. The meaning is pretty obvious, but it also shows the despair he feels for losing his little sister.**

There is no pain you are receding

A distant ship's smoke on the horizon

You are only coming through in waves

Your lips move

But I can't hear what you're saying

When I was a child

I caught a fleeting glimpse

Out of the corner of my eye

I turned to look but it was gone

I cannot put my finger on it now

The child is grown

The dream is gone

I... Have become comfortably numb

**India's song is Arms of the Angel by Sarah McLachlan. The song is a sad one, but it describes India perfectly. **

You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn

There's vultures and thieves at your back

The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies

That you make up for all that you lack

It don't make no difference, escaping one last time

It's easier to believe

In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness

That brings me to my knees

You're in the arms of an Angel, may you find some comfort here

**The song I picked for Cadence is actually Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men. The lyrics describe how he feels about Harmony's death really well. The song is like reading a poem.**

There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back

Well tell her that I miss our little talks

Soon it will be over and buried with our past

We used to play outside when we were young

And full of life and full of love.

You're gone, gone, gone away

I watched you disappear

All that's left is the ghost of you.

Now we're torn, torn, torn apart,

There's nothing we can do

Just let me go we'll meet again soon

Now wait, wait, wait for me

Please hang around

I'll see you when I fall asleep


	27. The First Night

**A/N Okay, so this will be our first chapter that's "all Games." Yes, the arena is a swamp. Maybe you are sitting there all disappointed because you wanted something elaborate and awesome. I hope that didn't happen. But swamps are awesome too, I swear! They have a lot of opportunity for cool mutations and hiding spots. It's going to be great. Or I will try, anyway!**

**On another note, yes the Bloodbath was a little small. Most of these characters need more time to be developed a little more. But that's good for all of you, right?**

**And now, what we've all been waiting for….the winner of the one-shot contest!**

**And the winner is….cherrybubble!**

**Congrats, cherry. Velvet will have immunity for the next three chapters!**

**Adonis Lockheart's POV**

Night is coming.

And the noise out in this place is somehow deafening.

I can't tell if the sounds are from some speaker system that's wired everywhere. Or if actual creatures are crawling everywhere. But for someone who has never been in a swamp at night, I can't help but wonder how the girl from Four from the bayou ever manages to sleep.

Crickets chirp and insects make strange buzzing and whirring noises. I can hear frogs croaking and birds tweeting and cooing. Everywhere, there is a strange clicking and humming sound.

I'm grateful for the noise, though.

It gives me less time alone in silence with my thoughts. And memories.

Silence, at this point, would drive me over the edge.

Kaja's gone.

There's no time to mourn her. I can't have some time alone to remember her and the very short time we spent together. I definitely can't cry about it.

Nobody cries here.

Because, though not many are willing to say it out loud, a death means you are one step closer to getting home.

Even someone held close.

I don't see how to even begin to imagine it. One minute she is here, with her honey hair glowing under the sun. Giving me a relaxed smile from her little platform, even though her whole body is shaking. One second she was here, running so fast and dodging everyone with her blue eyes filled with intensity. One day here, in my arms and talking and talking.

Talking about the future.

Even here in the noise of night approaching in the swamp, I can't get our last conversation out of my head.

_One day this won't exist anymore. _She'd said that with clenched fists, proclaiming it out to the world in that way of hers. Like she could take charge of everything.

Thought she could gather the whole nation in her arms and everything would be better.

And I had smiled. _Yeah Kaja. You go make sure of that. And while you're at it, try un-brainwashing all those other Career kids who aren't half as smart as I am._

_God, you are so arrogant! _She laughed and leaned over the railing. But then her face turned serious. _If I can do anything with my life, Adonis, I will get rid of this thing. One day kids won't have to worry about dying. Not like this. One day. You'll see._

And then I kissed her.

Maybe it was because she had looked so perfect then. Talking so passionately. But more likely because I knew I wouldn't have much time left with her. A small part of me knew Katherine Jasmine Thomas was going to die. She was just too perfect for this sick place to have her.

Kaja. Always talking about tomorrow .

When, for her, tomorrow never came.

I'm jarred out of my mind when I feel Gavin sit next to me. He rocks the log I'm on as he sits.

We're on a little dirt island right beneath the metal horn. This way, we're not sinking into mud.

It was obviously put here just for the Careers.

"Uh, Adonis?" Gavin clears his throat. "You all right there? You look like you're gonna be sick or something."

I wave my hand at him. "No, no I'm good. Just you know. Thinking about tonight. What we have to do, I mean."

Gavin nods, one hand on his cruel looking scythe. "Yeah, you know the plan. Julian says to head on that straight path and hunt for anyone who might be a threat. Not just anyone, though. He was really clear about that. Said we need to sleep too." Gavin smiles bitterly. "Even though that Shimmer girl was all for killing everyone in sight."

Of course she would.

It's only been a few hours, but already there is thick tension between Shimmer and Julian.

I shrug at Gavin. "Hey, so long as we get to sleep too, I'm siding with Julian."

"Me too." Gavin shakes his head. "That Shimmer is plain insane, that's what I think." He lowers his voice. "If you asked me, I'd say the same about all the Career girls this year."

He goes off to one of the tents we set up, probably to go talk to Jace and Julian.

Now, I like Gavin. He's a down-to-earth guy. He does tend to get a little arrogant sometimes, but that's the case with all the Careers. Julian is a good ally too, I think. He's a great leader and a pretty decisive one at that. He knows just what to do and how to get it without taking things too far.

Kaja said she thought he'd make a good leader, because he is so different from most Careers hailing from Two.

Jace, on the other hand, I'm more wary of.

I'm not sure why, but the guy gives me the creeps. Kaja always agreed and told me not to get too near him. Maces are not weapons for just anybody. Jace means business.

The girls are another story entirely.

Katerina is young. Maybe she doesn't act like it one bit, but she's more than two years younger than I am. I read on her profile that she's only fifteen years old. But she makes up for it by all those low cut outfits she wore and that cold glare. And the knives. I have yet to see her miss.

The thought hits me like a rock. She killed somebody.

Well, her and Velvet. They killed Jimmy. I don't know why. He was just there, I guess. Reason enough for them.

I didn't even hurt anyone. Too busy searching for the right sword and planning with Julian.

Until he himself was…occupied.

Velvet is a complete mystery to me. How is she from Eleven?

Shimmer, well, I can't begin to think about her.

I'm again jarred from my thoughts.

This time, by chords of music.

The anthem plays, bursting out of some invisible speaker system. Notes and chords leak out into the muggy swamp air. It seems so out of place. Not here, where we seems trapped on our own remote island. Yet another reminder that we are never really without watching eyes.

I'm not prepared for her picture to come up.

They took those pictures when we first got here. Lined us up in front of a black screen and had us make a face at them. For me, they asked for an above-it-all arrogance.

For Kaja, they asked for a radiant sort of calm.

Just who "they" are, I don't know.

But I wondered about those photographers all night long. Did they ever have trouble sleeping at night, knowing they were taking pictures of children who all died?

There she is, right in the sky of this gigantic dome, staring down right at me with those calm eyes.

And in a second, she's gone.

As Jimmy's picture flashes across the sky, I realize that none of the others are looking up at all.

Shimmer and Julian are fighting over when to head out. He insists we should do it as soon as possible so we too can get some sleep. Shimmer says sleep can wait.

Gavin watches both of them with an amused look in his eye. Jace sits next to him, twirling his mace and looking almost bored. Katerina sits on a log not far from mine, a look of nervous excitement beginning in her eyes. Predatory excitement, of course. Velvet cleans a knife, wiping it clear of blood. Preparing for our hunt.

Me? I just want to get it over with.

There's no thrill in it for me. There never was. To me, it's nothing but an obligation. Either I kill, or I don't go home.

Simple as that.

I don't even notice that the sound has stopped.

The song is silent.

Julian stands up first, looking worn out, but confident.

He won the little "debate" with Shimmer.

"All right guys. Let's head out."

Gavin stands up with a soft groan and I feel like mimicking him. The rest of the group just looks excited.

"We'll take that path." Julian points to the one directly in front of us. "Avoid getting off the raised up paths at all costs. I have no idea what lives in the water and I have no intention of finding out. The paths are wide enough for our competitors to camp on."

Competitors. Leave it to Julian to find the most politically correct term for the little kids we're going to kill.

"I saw Markus taking this path." Shimmer says, eager for a spot to take leadership. "He's our biggest threat, so keep your eyes open."

Katerina mutters something under her breath. Something like "yes ma'am, you little shit."

Huh. Maybe Katerina isn't as bad as I thought she was.

Jace flexes his fingers around his mace. "So is Markus going to be Shimmer's kill? Cause if we're picking kills here, I want that Casper guy. A score of eight. I don't like it."

I clear my throat to get their attention. "If anyone sees Anna, she's mine."

Julian nods in understanding.

I will kill Anna personally and be damned if it isn't slow.

Velvet stands to talk this time. "I say we split off in groups. Not to take different paths or anything, but the path isn't wide enough for all of us. Our strongest will lead the pack and our second strongest will end it. The weaker links in the middle."

"Good plan." Julian agrees. "All right, Shimmer and I will go in front. Gavin and Jace, go with Velvet towards the middle. Velvet stays right behind Shimmer and me. Adonis and Katerina can bring up the rear."

A flurry of complaints bursts out of everyone.

"Aw, come on." Gavin moans. "You only out Jace and Velvet in me in the middle cause we're from weaker districts."

Julian hold up his hands. "Hey, it's nothing personal. You aren't Careers so I don't know how reliable you are yet. Just be grateful I let you in at all."

Shimmer stomps her foot. "Katerina isn't a Career either! And you let her be with Adonis! I should be with Adonis!"

Everyone jumps back at this sudden outburst. I mean, we all know that Shimmer has a tendency to throw herself at me a little, but even I didn't know it was that bad.

"Shimmer, even though you annoy the piss out of me, I'm keeping you where I can see you. And if you have a head on your shoulders you'll listen to me. You don't want to get on the pack's bad side. They listen to me. And you don't want to get on my bad side." Julian growls.

She looks down, defeated. "Whatever." Shimmer grumbles.

Katerina looks up at me with the same look of fierceness and command in her eyes, only this time she's looking more and more like an ordinary fifteen year old every second. It's sort of draining out of her.

Maybe she's scared.

But she makes up for it in an instant by giving me a strangely sensual grin for a kid. "Bet you're happy you don't have to deal with Shimmer anymore, huh? Well, I'm not exactly a walk in the park either." She says, in a drawl like she's imitating Velvet.

I'm not faxed. "How much do you weigh, Kat?"

She blinks, taken aback.

"Seriously. What, like maybe a hundred ten?"

Katerina rubs her knife and mumbles something.

"Well, I'll tell you something. I weigh twice that, so I think I can reign you in just fine. Let's not do anything stupid, though. It's way too early for that. Look, both of us hate Shimmer. So we have that in common at least. And I'm not going to kill some girl who's years younger than I am anyhow."

To my surprise, she doesn't shoot some retort back to me like how she's "not like a little girl at all."

But she doesn't.

She just stands there, looking silently grateful.

"Okay then, people." Julian says loudly. "Let's head out."

**Shimmer Parker's POV**

I can't help it.

I'm walking so quickly that Julian next to me is panting. Serves him right. The boy's the strangest tribute Two has ever sent in.

That's not a good thing.

He looks tired right now. How can anyone be tired at a time like this? Maybe he just doesn't feel adrenaline the way I do. Or feel it at all. Because this excitement is contagious. It goes from one of us to tbuthe next like a spark. And once it hits us, we ignite. It feels like a rush of energy.

Jace behind me keeps flexing his fingers around his mace. A smile keeps creeping up on his lips.

Gavin looks around himself everywhere, as if one of those kids is hiding in the muddy water beneath us or the canopy leaves above. His muscles are tensing like he's ready to attack at any minute.

Velvet has a glimmer in her eyes. I bet my own blue eyes look the same.

And Katerina plays absently with her knives, twirling each one on her fingers. She must have that whole pouch around her hip full of them.

Although Adonis stands right next to her, he seems a little out of it. Why? Because that idiot Kaja girl just died? It's not like the two of them had anything anyway. If Adonis could only get one sensible thought into that head of his, he would know that Kaja was nothing.

Me, on the other hand, I could get him all kinds of sponsors.

It's not too late.

And it's for his own good. Yes, he will be so grateful to me once I get through to him.

I can keep him alive.

Well, until I decide not to anymore.

Then, he will be gone in a flash.

But that's not the point. The point is that together we can be the greatest sponsor trap these Games have ever seen. I'll be showered on with every kind of supply and weapon imaginable. Even though our pile is already pretty sizable.

If it weren't for that damn Julian. It's his fault that might not ever happen.

Julian thinks he's so smart. That he can just take charge of the group. Who is he to think that he's just automatically our leader?

He didn't even give a second thought that I might make a better leader than he ever could.

And I see what he's doing here.

I don't know what's between him and Adonis. I guess they made some kind of secret pack during Training that I couldn't overhear. Something to do with him keeping me and Adonis apart at all times. I get it. Adonis doesn't seem to nbe catching onto my hints.

That doesn't mean he doesn't feel anything towards me, though.

And now that Kaja's dead….

Well, we know the saying. When life closes one door, it opens a window.

So jump, damn it, Adonis. Jump!

But it's Julian holding him back. When the time comes, I will kill that guy as slowly and as painfully as possible. No mercy of a quick death for Julian Moretti.

"Hey, watch it!" Gavin's voice cuts into my fantasies.

I look down. Almost tripped over one of those huge roots that grow out of the water and over our path.

I dust myself off and straighten myself, determined to keep my dignity intact.

Julian chuckles and Katerina smirks.

"Oh shut up." I growl at her. "How old are you anyway? Thirteen?"

"Fifteen." Katerina grumbles. "At least I'm mature enough to not fall in love with every guy I set my eyes on. I beat you there, Glitter."

"Shimmer!" I practically shout at the girl. "My goddamn name is Shimmer!"

"Hey, keep it down." Velvet says in a low whisper. "Or else we're kind of ruining the whole point of sneaking up on these kids."

Of course, Julian takes the lead again, making sure I'm setting my feat down at the exact same time he does. I can never just be one inch from the guy. He makes sure of that. Always at least ten feet away from Adonis at all times. Like that will keep me from getting what I want.

I do not exactly believe in the "you can't always get what you want" philosophy.

That is the weak man's take on life. I assure you, you can in fact get what you want. So long as you work a little for it.

And I will not be kept from Adonis Lockheart.

What the hell is Katerina talking about? That girl knows nothing at all. I do not fall in love with every guy I set eyes on. For example, I thoroughly loathe Julian Moretti and often find myself irritated with that Gavin as well.

Adonis is merely for the sponsors. They can't resist him. One look at the bronze skin tone. And that wavy golden hair. Not blond like mine, but quite literally golden. Oh, with those big sea green eyes! Naturally, one couldn't forget about his perfect physique either.

Oh yes. He will come in handy.

It's impossible to see anything out here. Not even his golden hair. I can see the gnarled outlines of the trees above us, forming a twisted roof of dense leaves. If there was any sun left in the sky, even then it wouldn't touch the dirt on our path.

I can hear water lapping up on the path. Water is everywhere here. But I am undeniably grateful for the packs of bottle water we snatched by the Cornucopia. There wasn't much competition for those anyway.

Everyone else fled somewhere into this gigantic swamp.

At least now that the light is gone from the sky, the temperature has dropped to a mere "uncomfortable hot wetness on my neck," rather than the former "excruciatingly humid and soaking wet" it was before. Okay, not much of an improvement. But it's something.

Now it will be easier to run, in case our prey tries any means of escaping.

Escape would be a stupid idea. I got the highest score of female runner last fall at our Training Center. Adonis, I bet, isn't a shabby sprinter either.

Here's hoping Katerina trips and gets eaten by alligators or something.

suddenly, Julian stops short in his tracks.

"Did you hear that?" He whispers urgently to all of us.

I'm about to shake my head when I too pick up something.

There. A rustling in some bushes right off the path where we're standing. Maybe there's a little island in the water or somewhere our competitors are taking refuge.

Julian motions for everyone to be quiet.

The first voice comes out in a low tone, but loud enough for us all to hear. "Should we sleep now?"

"Not yet." A second, female voice, slightly nasal. "Let's just wait a little longer."

Wait for what, I wonder. Probably us. The thought makes me grin.

Jace is grinning too. For him, it's the same as it is for me. Killing, I mean. Every kill means he's one step closer to fame and fortune. And going home. To me, going home doesn't mean nearly as much. Actually, I might never go home again. But for him, it means seeing that girl he loves.

Velvet and Katerina exchange knowing glances. Both draw their knives.

Lucky me. I'm rather unusual, with my spear. Most girls choose throwing knives.

Then again, I'm not exactly "most girls."

Even Adonis suddenly perks up at the idea of a kill. Well, maybe not that entirely. Maybe it's just that the adrenaline had finally taken its hold on him.

Only Gavin stands still, looking strangely subdued. "That's Thorn." He whispers. "And her ally."

Thorn Kingly and Raen Croele. Not high on my hit list, but they'll have to do. Any kill is better than none at all. One more marked off.

Julian and I creep up to the bushes. I have my spear ready and he holds his machete with strong fingers.

Slowly, he pries the bushes apart.

That's when Thorn lets out a muffled scream.

Raen crawls backwards, fumbling around for any kind of weapon he can use. His hands land on a dagger. That's right. Thorn managed to escape with a few of those things. It's not like they'll be of any use at all to her, though. A dagger in her hand will be as useless as a twig.

"What do you want?" He pants, terrified out of his mind.

Huh. I am really liking this effect I have on people.

"Alliances?" He begs. "We can do that. Thorn and me, we-we aren't as weak as you think we are, I swear."

I can't help but laugh at how pathetic he sounds. Groveling on his knees and begging for his life. From me, someone his own age.

At least I will never have to be in his position. I will never have to beg for anything from anyone. Let alone for my own life.

Julian shakes his head at Raen. "Sorry, but we aren't looking for allies."

And then, I throw my spear. The familiar weapon leaves my hands, sailing in the air for just a split second. I've always loved the way that looked. It is a split second holding so much promise. So much pride in store for me, should it meet its mark. And it will.

I never miss.

Sure enough, the spear hits dead center of Raen's chest.

He blinks widely and stares at me with a mouth as wide as a fish. Then, he lowers his head to look down at the metal length of the spear sticking out from his shirt. He takes one long look at it, then looks back up at Julian and me and all the rest of us.

Thorn stands apart, looking frozen.

Why hasn't someone killed her yet?

I barely have time to register that last thought.

Out of nowhere, Thorn pulls out a dagger from behind her. And throws it.

The dagger sails through the air, just like my spear did. _There's no way she has that good form. There's just no way. _

I duck just in time, hitting the wet, muddy ground with full force as the dagger whizzes above me, slicing through air. Determined to find a target.

It does find a target. It lodges right in the middle of Gavin's shoulder.

He lets out a howl that shakes the leaves on the trees above us.

That high, eerie sound, combined with the sudden low boom of Raen's cannon, distracts all of us. So much so that we don't even notice Thorn taking off into the swampy night, finding her way onto the path across from ours. and disappearing into the trees.

Gavin crumples to the ground, panting heavily.

"Stay calm, everyone." Julian orders through clenched teeth. "I know how to take care of this."

Velvet can't seem to stop looking at Raen's dead body, crumpled in a ball in the mud. The inch or so of water around him is turning red. The wound in his stomach is leaking out blood.

I'd better remove my spear. I don't have an endless supply of those things. Besides, I've been growing attached to that one.

"Why help him?" Velvet says in a flat voice. "Just leave him there. One less person to worry about. We didn't get Thorn. Let's just get rid of him instead."

We all stare at her. Offing Gavin was not really an option we'd previously considered.

But Julian shakes his head firmly. "Uh, no. Gavin is not a piece of litter we can just kick away. Much as we hate to admit it, he is a person. And he is our ally. I chose him to be in this alliance for a reason. No one else here can use a scythe. So I'm going to stop the bleeding using the first aid kit I have on me."

"You have a first aid kit?" Adonis asks.

Julian nods. "Yeah, I do. Figured something like this would happen. I've got enough stuff to make a tourniquet and a needle and thread and antiseptic. Plus some morphine shots."

Gavin clenches his teeth. "Some leader we have here, right guys?" He winces as Julian dabs the area around the dagger with something.

The rest nod in amazement.

Okay, okay. So he brought a first aid kit. The guy is prepared, I have to hand it to him.

But I'm with Velvet on this one.

Why save someone you're just going to kill later on anyway?

I look away as Julian pulls out the dagger and shoves cloth in the wound to stop the bleeding. And cover my ears as Gavin moans while Julian sews him up. Then I hide my eyes as the morphine gets injected into him and Gavin finally drifts off to sleep.

Thank goodness.

I was worried I was going to have to listen to those howls all night.

We finally just decide to stay here for the night.

And honestly, I'm much too tired to protest.

I finally settle in to the dirt ground and curse the air for not having anything to lie on. But then, it is so damn hot out here that a blanket would be pure torture.

Flies and bugs swarm all around us. They bite at me and land on me, making me twist and turn and itch like crazy.

That, of course, sends Katerina into a laughing fit, seeing me doing a crazy itch-dance. The little bitch. She looks totally happy and content with the world. Despite the fact that she's from an outer district and just witnessed several gruesome deaths. And I'd always thought their stomachs were weaker.

Oh, right. I forgot. She's totally insane.

"Guys?" Gavin mumbles.

"What?" Adonis grunts.

"There's no way she could have thrown that dagger and just gotten lucky. I mean, we saw how close she was to hitting Shimmer."

"What are you suggesting?" Jace sounds irritated that he can't just sleep. You and me both, Jace.

Gavin props himself up on his good arm. "I'm saying that Thorn's been trained. Somehow, someone trained her for the Games. And she might not be the only one either. Some of those kids got some pretty high scores."

"Yeah." Julian rubs his neck and swats at a bunch of gnats.

"These are not normal Games, I'm telling you." Gavin whispers.

Julian nods. "He's right. These kids cannot afford to be underestimated. Not one of them, got it? Cause the consequences could be pretty awful."

No arguing back there.

For once, Julian is absolutely right.

**The Dead:**

**D1: Katherine Jasmine Thomas **

**D5: Jimmy Thrine**

**D6: Jake Rittler**

**D7: India Gyfer**

**D7: Raen Croele**

**D12: Cadence Basil**

**Songs:**

**Raen's song is Ghosts by James McMorrow. It has some pretty haunting lyrics that hopefully will make you think.**

The moon holds the light

And the moon's this spinning globe

Shedding light upon the road

The bird won't fly

And a bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing

We are ghosts

We are ghosts amongst these hills

From the trees of velvet green

To the ground beneath our feet

We are ghosts

We are ghosts amongst these hills

Pressing out along the shore

Pressing out along the shore

The mountain song

Matters not the thoughts of thirds

Matters only to be heard

And though I'm gone

I will come again in Spring

When the harvest can begin

**Again, congrats to cherrybubble. I normally can't stand Glato, but it was pretty convincing. Just don't get too excited…I will always be a die hard Clato fan. **

**What was your favorite quote?**


	28. Day Two: Unshed Tears

**A/N So we'll be starting this chapter back in the Career alliance. Don't worry, by the next half we'll be outside "the pack," if you start getting bored of them. Which I hope isn't happening. I'm super happy to have gotten such interesting and unique characters! I have no Career pack stereotypes, which is awesome. Hopefully you never tire of Shimmer's antics as she tries to get Adonis to notice her. **

**And I hope you're never bored of Julian trying to be a good leader, but constantly having to worry about getting Shimmer out of his hair. Oh, and that Jace's fantasies about a girl who hardly knows him and Katerina's delusions and cursing to Shimmer and Gavin's gradual realization that the world is not his story alone keep you entertained!**

**Julian Moretti's POV**

I wake up with muddy leaves pressed into my cheek.

Groaning softly, I do the best I can to wipe my face clean of mud, leaves and whatever else is on the ground here.

I slept surprisingly well last night. For the heat and the fact that I was sleeping next to a bunch of psychotic killers, I count this as pretty good.

And my bad luck didn't come back. There was no snakebite in the middle of the night or alligator attack or freak lightning bolt. So far, so good Julian. I have it all under control.

Katerina sits cross legged, staring into the murky water beneath the path. Tiny ripples form in it. Fish? Frogs? Nah. With my luck, probably some kind of mutant crocodile or something. She eyes the water, looking fully awake, even though it can't be past seven yet, and all the others are fast asleep.

"Oh, you're up." She says, like she's forcing herself to be casual.

Like it isn't weird at all to be having a conversation with someone she likely spent all night contemplating whether to kill or not.

"Uh, yeah." I mumble in response, frantically checking my legs for any weird bites. The bugs here are going to slowly drive me insane. If Shimmer doesn't do that first.

Katerina sits straighter and motions for me to sit beside her.

Okay, that's strange.

But against my better judgement, I do it anyway. I have a dagger on me at all times. Even though Katerina thinks she's all that, she hasn't been training her whole life for this. Besides, she's a smart kid. I think. I can tell she's calculating. She knows better than to pull something like that now.

So I plop down next to her, careful to avoid accidentally putting my feet in the water. Who knows what kind of creature could come popping up?

"What is it?"

She moves her finger to her lips in a frantic motion. "Shhh! They'll wake up."

I nod, then whisper again. "So what is it?"

Katerina jabs a thumb in the direction of Shimmer's sleeping form. "When are we going to do it?"

"Do what?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Kill her. You know, slit her throat or something."

My eyebrows raise. "Wait, are you saying you want to kill her _now?_"

"Yeah idiot, what does it look like?" Katerina rolls her eyes again and makes a huffing sound.

I hold up my hands. "Okay, okay. I get it. Nobody here likes Shimmer very much, Kat. Me least of all. The only reason I'm forcing myself to stay with her all of the time is because I just know she's going to pull something with Adonis. Or try to, anyway. And if he rejects her, she'll kill him in a flash."

Katerina shrugs. "So? Less competition for you."

"Sure, but that's not always exactly how it works, Kat."

"Well how does it then?" She snaps, breaking our all-whispers conversation. Obviously she doesn't take too kindly to that nickname.

I try to break it down for her. The girl's only fifteen and has no experience training for this thing, or not much. Sure, she may be a prodigy with throwing and wielding all things sharp and deadly and she's wicked smart, but the girl doesn't seem to have a perfectly clear mind all the time.

"See, we're in an alliance." I start slowly. "First of all, the purpose of an alliance is not to off anyone you feel like right away. It's the opposite. And I chose all the people in this alliance, including you."

She nods.

"So I chose them for a reason. Everyone in this alliance is protecting you right now, Katerina. Whether you or they know it or not. Imagine having to face Anna or Markus or Casper alone. They would seem a lot more formidable without all of us to back you."

Katerina sighs. "It's not like I'm helpless on my own or anything, Julian." But she says this without her usual biting tone.

That's how I know I've gotten through to her.

I lower my voice a notch. The others seem to be getting up. "We keep Shimmer until Anna, Markus and Casper are dead. Then, do with her as you please."

Katerina nods again.

Behind us, Velvet makes a soft groaning sound and pushes herself up on her arm. Mud and leaves stick to her too and she frantically tries to brush them off.

Her movements wake up Jace next to her, and then the whole crowd is up. Gavin rubs his bandaged shoulder and moans, but at least he's conscious.

I'm regretting the decision to help him more and more. What use is he, with his scythe, if one of his arms won't even move anymore? Maybe I should just off him now. It would be pretty easy. Just a jab of my dagger. Or I could poison him. Killing him with a dagger might set something off in the other kids. Suddenly, they'd all be calling for blood.

A bad situation to be caught in, for sure.

The group stares at me, slightly bleary-eyes and with matted hair. Even Shimmer has her attention on me, though she frequently breaks eye contact.

I rub my hands together. "Well, all right then. I see we've all survived the night."

Gavin rubs his shoulder. "More or less."

"Here's the plan." I clear my throat. "We go back to the Cornucopia cause all of our supplies are located there. Everyone stock up on food and water and weapons, if you need any. Then, we go looking for Markus, Casper and Anna. For now, our main priority is Anna, but the others will work."

"And if we see anyone else along the way?" Shimmer asks innocently.

I wave my hand. "Do whatever you have to do."

Jace jumps up. "All right! Sounds like a plan!"

So we head back to the Cornucopia, which isn't as far a walk as I thought it would be.

Guess I keep thinking this thing is a lot larger than it is. Like we're actually in a swamp or something.

We all keep tripping over the overgrown roots in our path. On top of that, I have to go in front to cut away the vines with a machete. Shimmer stands next to me, rolling her eyes and snorting if it takes me any longer than a few swishes to clear our path.

Well Shimmer, I don't think you'd find it too funny if you wandered into the giant spiderweb I just cut out of your way.

Moss hangs everywhere, coating the trees. Already, the swamp is waking up. Sounds of bird noises that are way unfamiliar to me fill the air and the hum of insects buzzing radiates from every corner.

We make it to our little field without any of us killing or seriously maiming each other.

Now that's an accomplishment.

Jace, Gavin and Adonis tear through packs of food, eating everything they can find.

"Uh guys, we might want to conserve."

Adonis smiles weakly. "C'mon man. You should know that nothing comes between a guy and food."

I grin back at him and help myself to some granola bars. Adonis is looking better this morning. Probably he has started to think a little more rationally. There is no point in mourning Kaja's death. She died and now he probably realizes that means he's one step closer to winning.

It's a disturbing rationale, but a true one nonetheless.

"We have sponsors, anyway." Jace says, after popping some nuts of some sort in his mouth.

Welcome to the Career pack. Where being caught in a fight to death is handled like nothing more than a camping trip.

We sit around, eating various foods and cleaning and organizing weapons.

"So what's Markus's deal?" Gavin asks suddenly.

"What do you mean?" My mouth is full of some kind of jerky.

Gavin sits up, wincing slightly as he puts pressure on his bandaged arm. He's lucky. Thorn's dagger was of the smallest sort there is. In an arm, it's never fatal.

He's also lucky I can be such an idiot sometimes.

"I was watching the television yesterday and some guy was talking about him." Gavin explains. "He said he murdered some kid in his district. At least, that's what people there think."

Adonis shudders. "Yeah. I heard that too."

Shimmer just shrugs. "So what?"

All of us stare at her, blinking in shock.

"So what?!" Jace shakes his head. "C'mon Shimmer. What in the hell do you mean like that? Casper made be good with a bow and Anna may be psycho, but at least they didn't _murder _anybody back home. Markus is the real threat." He shakes his head again. "Thank goodness Julian is our leader. He actually can view some of these kids as threats."

Shimmer stands up angrily, placing her hands indignantly on her hips. "That's not what I meant." She growls at Jace.

Time to step between them. "All right, all right. We get it, Shimmer. You just don't see Markus as that threatening or whatever."

She huffs and rolls her eyes. "That's not what I mean at all, Julian. You are an idiot, you know that?"

I sigh. I probably gave the girl reason enough to think that.

Shimmer continues. "It's not that I don't view him as a threat. Because he is one. That's why I want him as my target. But look at it this way. Why should it matter that he's a murderer? We're all murderers too." She shrugs. "We're killing kids left and right here, guys. So what if he's one step ahead of us?"

She's right.

Shimmer Parker is absolutely right.

"But we have to kill these kids." Katerina argues. "It's not like we have a choice."

Shimmer bites her lip. "We do, Kat. Oh yes we do."

Katerina shakes her head, as if dealing with a very stupid little kid or something. Obviously she's only doing that to piss Shimmer off. "If we wanted to die, Glitter. Then yeah, I wouldn't have killed Cadence. But I don't want to die."

Shimmer snorts. "Neither do I. I'm just saying."

There's silence after that.

Velvet stands up and stretches. She stares at all of us. "Are we just going to sit around? Cause I think a time like this calls for some hunting." An eerie smile plays at her lips.

I'm starting to like Velvet less and less. She's the kind of person to give me shivers. Wouldn't want to be in a tent alone with her. Or Shimmer. Or Katerina. Really any of the girls in this alliance. What's up with that, anyway? How come all the girls are psychos?

Usually it's the guy from Two who is the psycho.

I pride myself in being the polar opposite.

Gavin groans again. "Can't we just rest for a little more?"

Shimmer glares at him. "You can, if you want to Gavin. Cause you're arm is sore and all that." She pauses. "Of course, then I might have to kill you. You wanted be of any use to me or the rest of us anymore, would you? But hey, eternal rest sounds like exactly the thing you want right now."

Gavin holds up his hands in shock. "Okay, okay. Jeez, Shimmer. I'm coming."

Shimmer stands up to take the lead of the pack again, and I reluctantly shuffle over to walk with her. Keeping her out of trouble.

But of course, she ends up straying ahead.

Suddenly, I feel someone way too close.

Jace bends to whisper in my ear. "Shimmer's right, you know." He whispers. "Any more complaints about the Gavin kid, and I'll kill him in no time flat. He can't pick up his weapon even, or just barely."

I sigh. "Fine, Jace. But he'll hold his own."

Jace rolls his eyes, but steps back into place.

There's no way to sound quiet on these paths. Mud covered leaves are strewn everywhere. They crunch underfoot. Also, there are the occasional grunts and muffled gasps that come from one of the pack tripping over one of those gigantic tree roots.

Or the sound of us smacking ourselves to get rid of insects. Or whispered complaints about the oppressive heat.

I can't say I blame them. This heat is like someone is smothering me with a pillow.

After a while, I can't even help myself from gasping for breath.

The one good thing about being trapped in a swamp is that there's water everywhere. Dehydration could be a serious problem in this heat, but now it's the least of our worries.

I'm starting to have doubts about the path we chose to go on, almost subconsciously. All the paths branch out in a wheel from the Cornucopia, and this one was directly in front of us.

Shimmer swears it's the one Markus went on.

I only listened because I didn't have any better ideas myself.

"Where are we?" Katerina whispers angrily.

No one can answer the question.

It hangs in the air, leaving a dangling question mark to swim around in the terrible heat.

Because we've hear something.

Somewhere in a circle of mangrove trees, just off the path, there is the distinctive sound of someone drinking something. And a sigh.

Markus?

Whoever it is, or how many there are, they won't be here for long.

**Aya Brow's POV**

This is a good hiding space.

It isn't perfect, though. Nothing can be perfect. They would find us anywhere we hid in this dome.

Casper and I are on a little circle of gravel. Like an island.

He found it. We were running from the Bloodbath, just like everyone else. Except we didn't stop running. We couldn't. Not after we saw what happened to Cadence.

We just kept running on one of these raised dirt paths. Tripping over roots and getting caught in huge puddles of mud. Running through the flooded over areas and ignoring the heat that pressed down on us.

And then I had to stop. I was wheezing so heavily.

I hate when that happens. I hate it.

I thought for sure I would get us both killed, not just me.

But while Casper was waiting for my fit to end, he saw something that caught his eye.

There was a large group of berry bushes. There were so many that they formed a sort of tunnel. Casper lift end up the berries to reveal a small crawl space. We could go right through. Then we'd cover up our tracks and out the bushes back into place. And everyone passing would think that it was just another grove of berries.

The tunnel led to this little gravel peninsula, in the middle of the algae infested water.

One of the most important factors to surviving all of this is a good hiding space.

"Aya?" Casper whispers.

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about? You just looked so lost in your thoughts or something." He smiles a little. "Like you're planning something."

I shake my head, curly hair falling into my face. "Hah! No, I'm not planning anything. I'd be an idiot to plan something in this game. Yeah, only the stupid ones plan for things to happen."

Casper scratches his head. "You mean because you can't really plan for anything, right? This place is full of surprises." He says that in a biting tone.

"You got that right."

A question plays in the back of my mind. Growing and shaping. It becomes like the vines encircling and covering the trees everywhere. They block out the sun. And this question blocks all the rest of my thoughts.

I can't hold it in any longer.

"Do you think you could do it, Casper?"

He blinks his brown eyes that always have a sad, far-off look in them, slowly at me. "Do what?"

I clear my throat. "You know. Kill someone?"

He takes a deep breath. "I don't know." Casper runs his fingers through his auburn hair. "I really don't know, Aya. I might have to. For my girls, you know. But I would never want Star to grow up thinking I killed some little kid or something. That would be so terrible for her."

I turn a piece of gravel over in my hand. "Yeah. I get that. But it's a choice you have to make."

Casper shifts his position and runs his fingers absently over the bow he managed to grab. "I don't want to die. Of course not. But I don't want to kill someone either."

"Well which one do you value more? Your morals or your life?"

He thinks for a while on that. Then shakes his head. "This whole thing is just so hard."

"I know. But you can only escape with one of the two. Either you die, but you die innocent. Or you live, but with blood on your hands that you can never really wash off."

A pause.

"I'd choose quickly if I was you." I whisper.

"Which one did you choose, Aya?" Casper asks suddenly.

My lungs give a rattling breath. I try to cover it up, but it doesn't matter really. Casper knows I'm sick. "Isn't it obvious?"

His eyes cloud over with confusion. "No, I'm not so sure."

"I chose living, Casper." I pause to take another thin, rattling breath. "I volunteered for this thing so that I would have a chance, just a tiny chance, of living a full life. Because if I somehow miraculously win, then I get access to all the best medicine. I'll be cured. The chances of me winning here are a lot greater than me living a single year back home."

"So you're terminal." Casper says flatly.

"Yeah. I'm s-s-sorry." I choke out.

"For what?"

I manage a weak grin. But it's a smile nonetheless. The Aya I knew would always be grinning about something. "If I hack up a lung right now or something, it won't exactly be quiet or peaceful. I'll give us both away."

Casper smiles back and gestures to his bow. "But I've got this guy right here. They'll have to come through me and this beauty first before they get to you."

I can't help it. Casper's tone of voice has me cracking up. "I'd be so scared right now if I was Shimmer or any of them." I gasp to him. I raise my voice up a little to do an imitation of Shimmer. "Oh, it's that boy from Eight with the high score. You know, boys with high scores do attract me so. It's too bad we can't get anything on, considering he's married."

Casper guffaws at that one, then shoves his fist in his mouth to keep someone from hearing him.

"Where'd you get so good at imitations?" He gasps for breath.

But not like how I gasp for breath. This is a good gasping. From laughing.

I flip back some of my dirty blond hair and clear my throat for another imitation of Shimmer's ultra-feminine voice. "Well Casper, like most Careers I've been training for years."

Casper takes a while to catch his breath after laughing at that one. "You are something else, you know that Aya?"

Slowly, I stretch my legs. It's getting awfully cramped having to fold them up to fit on our tiny gravel island. But there is no way I'm setting foot in that water. There must be a countless number of mutations in there.

"I mean, you're not what a lot of people expect, well, sick kids to be like." Casper continues.

Another hack draws up from my chest. "Yeah. Unfortunately we can't all be little angels. Just look at what I did to my brother and my mom."

Casper bends down to make eye contact with me. His eyes are the same brown as mine. "Aya, it's okay. They're not mad at you. I'll bet anything."

"Why did you choose me as your ally?"

He looks taken aback by the sudden question. "I thought I already told you." He says slowly. "I chose you at first because I thought it was something Ellie would want me to do. But you know, now I really think I made the right choice. You're a really great ally, Aya. You really are."

"But I'm so _damn _weak." I mutter bitterly. Of course, just then another hacking cough, so hard it makes my body shake, has to come out.

His eyes fill with sadness. But not pity. At least it's not pity. And even the flash of sadness is gone in a second. "Maybe physically, but I don't give a shit." He shrugs and smiles at me. "Mentally, not in the slightest."

And that gets me smiling.

"There she is! Our little murderer. Didn't work out so well that time, though, did it?"

Casper looks at me strangely. "Okay Aya. That was a really good Shimmer impression. But what the heck is that supposed to mean."

I hold up my hands. "That wasn't me." I whisper.

Casper and I whip our heads to look at each other.

Shimmer's voice is coming from across an expanse of swampy water. There's a tangle of bushes and vines covering her, but I can make out her blond hair.

Casper predicted that there was another tiny gravel peninsula just like our across the water, we just couldn't see it.

Unfortunately for us, he was right.

We didn't think there was someone there, though.

"Go! Into the bushes, go!" Casper gestures madly toward the bush tunnel behind us.

He crawls in first. I go in after him backwards. This way, my head faces front and I can still get a view of the action. The vines and bushes covering the little island obscure the view, but I can still tell who is who. The whole Career pack is there. Plus one tallish girl with mousy hair.

"Thorn." I tell Casper as softly as my voice will allow. "They're going to kill her."

"Nothing we can do about it." He says flatly.

I know what he means. We just have to lie here. And pretend that nothing is going on. Like a girl who can't be older than sixteen is about to get killed. Because in the sick way this all works, it's actually good for Casper and me if Thorn Kingly dies.

Through the bushes on her little island, I ale out her form slowly rise to defend herself against her attackers.

Not a smart move on her part.

I wince, expecting the worst. Casper cringes behind me.

But there's nothing.

All that comes out is a shout.

Jace's body crumples to the ground.

"What was that?" Casper demands, trying to inch forward to look around my dirty blond curls.

"Jace just feel down. There's a dagger in his chest."

Casper's eyes look like they're going to bug out of his head. "Thorn did that?"

I nod, just as shocked as he is. "Yeah. She just threw it right at him, like she'd been throwing daggers her whole life."

Quickly, I whip my head back around to look at the scene unfolding.

"You little rat!" Shimmer shrieks.

Before Thorn can make a move out of there, Shimmer throws her spear. It hits its target. Thorn doubles over, her mouth hanging open. Slowly, her body curves around the spear. A sigh exits her lips. I cover my arms just in time to hear her pain-filled moan.

Thorn falls to the ground, right next to where Jace's body is still wincing.

Except when she falls, she lies perfectly still.

_Boom!_

The cannon makes the leaves above us drop off the trees and the murky water ripple.

Casper cringes again.

I look at the spot where Thorn is lying. No, where Thorn's body is lying. The thought makes me shiver. She was alive just a minute ago. Alive and standing, with a red flush to her cheeks and the gleam of adrenaline in her eyes. A spark of pride when her dagger made its mark.

Now she doesn't even exist anymore.

The thought is so eerie. How someone can walk the earth one minute, then vanish the next.

No, there was no blinding light when Thorn died. No clap of thunder to indicate heavenly anger or sadness. There was no rainbow descending on her to take her to a far-off kingdom filled with flowers.

No one even sheds a tear.

Julian swoops down and presses a finger to Jace's neck. Then, he stands and shakes his head to the rest of the Careers.

Jace is gone now, too.

_Boom!_

A hovercraft comes to take away the bodies. The Careers leave as soon as it comes. They have a campout where this thing started. Casper and I have no intention of going anywhere near there, no matter how desperate we get for supplies.

Even though the claw from the whirring hovercraft has already grasped around Jace and Thorn, the two of us still lay hidden in the bushes.

Like we're anchored here.

The sky is growing dark by the time we finally crawl out.

"Sorry you had to see that, Aya." Casper says into the warm breeze that's picked up. The night is sure to be another steamy one. Bugs of all sorts come out to bite us. And I can't help but marvel at the amount of detail that goes into this sick place. How could they possibly get billions of tiny, annoying gnats in here?

"It's fine." I tell him. though I'm afraid I haven't been very convincing. "At least I managed to hold in my coughing while they were here."

Of course, my lungs have to engage in another fit right then and there.

Without any pills or herbs or anything at all, I don't know how much longer I can last here. It would be beyond awful if my faulty lungs ended up to be the ones killing me after all.

"Okay?" Casper asks.

"Okay."

But we're not okay. And neither of us is willing to admit that to the other.

I clear my throat from all the bad stuff inside it. It doesn't really work, but it's the best I can do.

"The stars are out tonight."

"They're not real stars, Casper."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I know. They're still kinda nice, though. Like something from back home to hold onto, you know?"

I nod to myself. Thinking of Mom and Ross and Matt.

The anthem begins to play. I wish the notes to that song were softer. Gentle and warm, just like tonight. Or like those stars in our sky. Ones only we can see. But no, the notes have to be loud and jarring. Like everything else in the Capital. We can't have a minute of peace.

Pictures start coming in the sky.

First comes Jace.

His blond hair cut almost in a buzz, a grin playing at the side of his lips like he's won something already.

I don't know. Maybe he has won something. I'll get it soon, for sure.

Thorn is next. Her big brown eyes stare out under her tanned, angular face. Sharp elbows cross at her chest. She stares down the camera, as if interrogating it. Captured in that moment, she looks like she has control over everything.

_She did win something. _I tell myself. And I'll be getting it soon.

Thorn and Jace are gone.

And still, no one has shed a tear.

**A/N I hope you guys enjoyed reading that. Please let me know what your favorite line was. I love reading about your thoughts on that! It makes me feel all fuzzy inside. Plus, I'll try to right more lines like it. **

**The Dead:**

**D1: Katherine Jasmine Thomas**

**D3: Jace Ignis**

**D5: Jimmy Thrine**

**D6: Jake Rittler**

**D7: India Gyfer**

**D7: Raen Croele**

**D9: Thorn Kingly**

**D12: Cadence Basil**

**Jace's song is Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine. The lyrics are very poetic and I like them a lot. They describe Jace's love, or rather obsession, for Clarisse. And how his affection was never returned. It helped me picture his agony at the Justice Building when no one came to tell him goodbye.**

A falling star fell from your heart

And landed in my eyes

I screamed aloud, as it tore through them

And now it's left me blind

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

You left me in the dark

No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight

In the shadow of your heart

And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat

I tried to find the sound

But then it stopped and I was in the darkness

So darkness I became

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

You left me in the dark

No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight

**Thorn's song is Dog Days, also by Florence and the Machine. As you can tell, I love her a lot. I'll miss Thorn a lot as she was a lot of fun to write for. Thanks, Forget to Breathe, for letting me write a flawed character. the lyrics illustrate her will to survive.**

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father

Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers

Leave all your love and your longing behind

You can't carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over

The dog days are done

Can you hear the horses?

'Cause here they come

The dog days are over

The dog days are done

The horses are coming

So you better run


	29. Day Three: Hidden Plans

**A/N Did the deaths in last chapter surprise you? Or did you see it coming? I'm curious to this, so PM me if there's someone you actually want to "die" soon. **

**This is a very important notice. Starting next chapter, once we get to the second half of the Games, I will change POVs. They won't be in order by district anymore, but rather just whose would make the most sense at the moment. Make sense? So LouisVuittonLover, don't freak out if Anna's POV isn't in the next chapter. It will come later, but it might not make a lot of sense to have at the moment. Just a little heads up there for ya.**

**Violet Callo's POV**

"Damn, it looks like we're gonna overheat to death for sure."

I wake up to the sound of Keira's muttered cursing. The girl always has something to say. I don't mind, though. I think both of us need someone to talk to right now. Cause neither if us likes silence at all.

"Jeez, Vi." Keira grumbles. There's still some sleep in her eyes. "I don't know how you can stand the swamp. This place makes hell look like a paradise, I swear."

"Quiet down. We don't want someone to hear your ranting." I say groggily.

Keira waves her hand. "You got nothin' to worry about. No ma'am, nothing at all." She pats her side, where a knife rests.

I sit up, rustling some leaves and weeds beneath me. We're on the banks of a small trickle of stream running out from a little marsh. It's kept mostly hidden by a grove of mangrove trees, which Keira and I can climb in if we want to scout the area out.

"The way I see it, Vi, we're much unstoppable." Keira continues.

"Huh? What are you goin' on about?"

She stiffens. "No, really. These other guys, they underestimate us. We're not on that hit list the Careers have. Not even close. All cause we ain't yet fifteen! Like a few months of age are gonna make a difference in how threatening we are or something."

Her words make sense. They always do. "Yeah, you got a point there." I smile.

Keira plays with her blade. At the Bloodbath, I guarded Keira's back while she sprinted to grab one of those throwing knife sets. We're all set on weapons. "I tell you." She whistles softly. "Those Careers think they're all that, but they are not the sharpest knives in the drawer."

"Nope." I laugh.

Keira may talk in a heavy southern way, like me. But the things she says are always real smart. Must've been good in school. I sure am lucky to have an ally like her.

"We're a team now." Keira says softly. "We got each other, if nothing else."

"That's for sure." I pat my own knife. "We beat the Career there. They spend the whole Games wondering when they're all gonna up and get at each other's throats."

She shudders. "I hate 'em, those Careers."

I nod fiercely. "I hate them just as much as anyone ever has. They make me see red."

"We could do it, you know." Keira says, in a voice suddenly turned all flat.

"What do you mean?" I ask slowly.

I don't like the look in her eyes. Yeah, I get that little gleam lots of times. But it's really only before I do something real bad. I'm sure I had it there right before I had that fight with Maybelle. Before I stabbed my pencil through her hand.

"I mean we could take 'em down, Violet. You and me. Once a few more of 'em die off, then we strike." Her eyes glow at this plan.

Me, I'm still not sure. Taking down the Career pack? Yeah, I hate them. But I don't want to get myself killed doing something stupid. Victor would be so angry. Even worse than being angry, he would be sad. So sad he'd spend the rest of hi life with his head in a bottle.

Listening to the water lapping up on the wooden stilts of our hut, and the sounds of his own drinking. Forever.

How could I do that to him?

"We would have to get help. From some of the other tributes, I mean." I say slowly, formulating this plan in my head.

Keira tilts her head in thought. "Help, huh?" She chews her lip. "Well, who else still alive hates the Careers?"

I pick at a stalk of grass growing by the edge of the water. "Kaja hated them, but she died the first day."

Both of us are silent for a moment, thinking about Kaja. It was such a shock to all of us when she died. It wasn't supposed to happen. I hate when things aren't planned at all, bad things, but they just up and happen anyways.

But that's how life is, ain't it?

Guess that's how death is, too.

Just then, it hits me. "How 'bout Casper? He got a real good score, didn't he?" I pipe up.

Keira rubs her hands. "And he's my district partner. That counts for something. Plus, he's got that really nice ally. She's pretty sick, I think. But at least she wouldn't hurt a fly."

I frown. "Just one problem, though. We're gonna have to go beyond our grove of trees onto one of those dirt paths"

She shrugs. "So?"

"So Keira, everyone has to use those paths. Or else they'd be wandering around waist-high in dirty mutant-infested water. We don't know who could be on that path or who could see us."

Keira picks up a chunk of mud from the bank and tosses it into the shallow, murky water. It makes the green field of algae separate. She watches as the chunk slowly sinks, frowning slightly. "You used to not be like this, Vi." She says softly. "You used to not be so scared of things."

Crossing my arms, I stick my pointy chin up. A strand of dark blackish, wild and wavy hair falls in my face. A long time without washing it. "I am _not _scared." I say firmly. "I'm _sane._"

"But you were different. Violet, you were somebody else when I made allies with you. That's all I'm sayin'."

"Maybe seeing ten kids die changes a person." I mumble.

She nods, though. "That is true."

I shake my head. "There ain't no kid who deserves this."

Keira leans back on her palms. "Our districts thought we did. 'Cept, not really mine, on account that it was a freak sort of thing. You know, people thought nobody would vote for me, so they did." She shrugs, like it doesn't matter at all. "How'd you get in?" Her face gets that gleam to it. "What'd you do, huh?"

"Nothin'." I spit out, a little too quickly.

She jabs me with her skinny, pointy finger. "You sure as hell did, Violet Callo. Betcha did something real, real bad."

It's no use. Might as well give in to her curiosity. "I got in a fight with the wrong girl, that's all."

Keira scratches her head. "Yeah? Did you hit her or something."

"Or something." I snort. "She talked bad about my dead Daddy and I stabbed her hand with a pencil. Wasn't nothin'. That's what I thought. But then she's bleeding a heck of a lot and I panic and run. The girl, her dad's not so poor like the rest of us were. Had a good business. Maybelle, that's the girl, she was a popular kid. Got everyone thinking I was some kind of nut job. Next thing I know, I'm here."

"Do you regret stabbing that Maybelle girl?"

Grabbing a few strands of grass, I roll them in my hands. "I gotta say yes, don't I? But sometimes, I don't. Cause I _liked _the look on her face. When she kinda just crumbled and all her meanness was gone for a moment. It was just pain cause of the thing in her hand, that's all. I liked the way she hollered for help and started to crying. Cause I felt power, you know?"

Keira nods. She knows. "People might think that's how a sadistic crazy person thinks. They might go comparing you to Velvet or Shimmer or Katerina or even Anna. But I don't think it's like that."

"Nope. Sure isn't."

We sit still for a while.

Then, I hear it.

The sound of someone running.

Leaves crunch behind us and twigs break. I hear somebody panting.

Keira whips her head around to look at me. "What is that?" She whispers.

Without a second thought, I scurry over to one of the mangrove trees. I always climb the trees, because I've been doing it my whole life. The relief I felt when I realized I was fighting in practically my own bayou! Keira stays at the bottom and makes sure nobody gets to me.

I use the roots at the bottom of the tree to boost me up. Quickly, I scramble up the tree. My feet are sure of themselves, but my brain is running wild.

Slowly, I bend down to a little hole in the tree where I can stay for a while and peek down below.

There, on the dirt path, is Markus.

He has the same olive skin I do. The same wild, dark hair. Even the same green eyes. He could be a bayou kid. And even though he isn't, he's still my district partner.

There's nothing I can do, though.

Especially because that's Anna Corinna chasing him.

Whenever I see that girl, I can't help it. I shudder a little. Keira and I both think that she is just downright crazy. Not good crazy. Or just a little unhinged. No, there's something seriously wrong with the girl.

Now, she's running after Markus as full speed, with her ponytail flapping behind her. Loose strands of hair fall into her pointy face, making her look even more crazed.

My fingers clench around the branch as Anna tackles Markus to the ground.

He lets out a shout in surprise. That's all that is in his face for a second. Surprise. He doesn't even have time to be scared yet or anything. Just a look of shock on his face and a single shout that touches the tops of the trees and goes into mine, too.

Markus holds up his hands to her wrists, trying to get her off him. At the same time, he fumbles for something at his side.

A dagger.

But Anna is still on top of him. And she has a dagger of her own.

Anna pants for a moment and wipes the sweat and hair out of her eyes.

She raises the blade.

Then she stops.

I clench my fingers around the branch in my tree. I'm shaking full time now. Bet I look an awful lot like those frogs right before I'd stick 'em with my knife. Even way up here in my tree, that girl underneath scares the piss out of me.

"It's nothing personal, Markus." Anna leans into his ear when she says this.

He flinches and gives a little croak.

Anna smiles. "We're not to different, you and I. Our districts can't have us. They can't handle us. You know why?" She brushes some hair from his eyes. "Because they're scared, Markus."

Markus groans. "Please!"

She shifts. "Please?" Anna forms her lips into an exaggerated frown. "Don't be pathetic. You should never beg for anything from people, Markus Wade. My Daddy taught me that. Didn't yours?" She shrugs. "It doesn't make a difference, anyway. Your father hates you, doesn't he?"

Markus gives a weak, muffled protest.

"He does, doesn't he?" Anna only laughs. "Your whole family does. And it looks like they always will." She twirls her blade. "And that's where you and I are different. You see, everyone may hate me know." She waves her hand submissively. "But not for long. When I win, they will have no choice but to love me."

That's when she drives her blade deep into her chest.

A whispered moan escapes my lips.

Markus's head falls back limply. His eyes roll back in his head. The only sound he makes is a little sigh.

Anna stands up and brushes her hands. She gives a prim little sound, as if satisfied by her work.

She walks away, her ponytail swishing behind her.

_Boom!_

Markus's canon fires, a low rumble sent through the trees and vines.

His body lies alone and crumpled.

I scramble down the tree before one of those huge hovering things comes to get his body.

Keira sits at the base of the tree, numbed by what just happened.

She shakes her head at me. "I'm real, real sorry Violet. Sorry you had to see your district partner, you know, die like that."

"He had all those little guys at home, too." I say softly. "Once he told me that I reminded him of his little sister Casey. He went on about the girl for forever, Keira. He really, really loved that family of his."

Keira balls up her fists. "It just makes me so mad that all these little kids out there are seeing their big brothers and sisters die like this. In the worst way possible."

I slump down onto the wet ground. My black boots make a squelching sound in the mud. "Know what freaks me out? That someday, these little kids are gonna turn older than their big siblings. Their big brothers and sisters are just gonna stay the same age forever."

"Damn, Vi. That is creepy." Keira shudders.

"I hate that Anna girl. Man oh man, I hate her. She doesn't kill in any way that's at all honorable. She just kinda does it, know what I mean?"

Keira nods, all serious. She's a real good ally, that girl. I'd bet if she was from the bayou, we'd have been the best of friends.

I don't want her to die. Yeah, I know if she does, I win. But that's not how I think. No, not at all. Keira's like family here. Like all the family that's here with me right now. I can't let her go.

"You wanna get back at Anna?" She asks suddenly.

"What do you mean by that?" I say back, even though I already know what she means.

"I mean avenge Markus. That ain't no way to die, what happened to him."

And I shake my head. "Now that's for sure."

"So you wanna hunt her down."

Now I can't help but grin a little. A rush of adrenaline is already pumping through my veins. "Hell yeah I do."

Keira rubs her hands. "Then let's do some hunting."

We bend down to collect all our knives. Keira slips them into the little pouches. Two of them. One for me and one for her. Six throwing knives to each pouch. Though Keira only recently learned how to throw knives and I'm not exactly a Career, together in training, we were real strong.

In the arena, we'll be double.

Keira makes sure my pouch is strapped on by the khaki pants and I check hers.

She wipes the sweat from her face and grins at me. "You ready?"

I straighten. "Ready as I'll ever be.

**Katerina Rebekah Nikolina's POV**

I'm cleaning my blade when I hear the cannon boom.

It's been such a dull sort of morning in the Games. Not much going on. As soon as we woke up, the pack had an unspoken agreement just to lie around and take it easy for a little while.

It is simply too hot to function.

So I'm so startled by the sudden loud noise that I drop my blade. It ends up sticking out in the mud.

Sighing, I pick it up. Back to square one.

Shimmer nearly falls off the log she's sitting on, which makes me crack up a little bit. Such a shallow thing she is. Without an ounce of intelligence to her body. She may think she's so smart, but really, she knows nothing at all. At least, not how to play these Games.

Perhaps what infuriates me most about Shimmer Parker is that she thinks she's some kind of genius who has everyone in the palm of her hand.

When in reality, everyone hates her almost as much as I do.

Such a shame, not being able to see reality.

Once again, these Games have told me to give thanks for my own sanity and perfectly reasonable mind.

Shimmer eyes widen as the boom finishes echoing. "That wasn't us." She says softly.

I roll my eyes in response. "No shit, genius."

That phrase gets Shimmer's face to turn red as blood spilling out from a corpse. So that's one point for Katerina.

Gavin pops the sprig of grass he was holding in his mouth nonchalantly out. His arm looks better and he's even holding his scythe like before. "Who do you think it was?"

Velvet fans herself with a flattened carton of granola bars. "You mean you died or who killed? Cause I have no idea who's dead, but I will bet anyone anything that is was Anna who did the killing."

"Yeah?" Adonis wipes the sweat of his forehead. "But what about Violet and Keira."

There's silence for a second.

"Violet and Keira?" Shimmer scoffs. "No way. Those girls are, like, twelve."

"Violet's fourteen, Shimmer." Julian corrects her promptly. "And there is something about those two. I've seen them in training together, and Violet can really throw a knife."

"Well, I didn't see." Shimmer says with a haughty sniff added in there for good measure.

I clear my throat. "They were trying to be subtle, Glitter. Not like it's anything you would know how to do."

Adonis gives a little laugh at that one. And I feel a little lift in my chest. Sort of like a flutter. It's like my heart just skipped a little. From pride. Adonis's chuckle there gave my pride a swell. I got him to laugh! Even after how hard he took his ally's death, he still laughed.

But those are trivial thoughts.

"Besides, what does age matter here, really?" I continue, now that I have everyone's attention. Such a good feeling that is. "It isn't as though a few months or even a few years somehow lower a person's capacity to kill. A fourteen year old who can throw knives, in the end, is far better off than an eighteen year old boy with no weapon skills at all."

Julian nods. "No underestimating. Got that, guys?"

Everyone mumbles in response.

"I don't know." Velvet whispers. "Those two girls do creep me out just a little. Their alliance just seems so tight. I can tell that they would never, ever break it. And that's just not how alliances are."

Shimmer laughs. "Don't be stupid, Velvet! The definition of alliance is two people putting their trust in each other, of course."

Velvet frowns. It's a frown that etches into her face and reaches the corner of her eyes. It's clear to me that Velvet Leporis does not like to be accused of being wrong. Shimmer just messed with the wrong girl.

"Not here." Velvet says firmly. "Not in the Games. Everyone knows that at some point, you'll kill your ally."

We all shrug. It's just a known fact, after all.

It's nothing personal. I'm only going to kill them all in a day or so.

Except it is personal with Shimmer. That girl will die slowly.

She continues. "My point is that those two aren't going to make it any easier for us by killing themselves off."

I have to hand it to the girl. Velvet has a head on her shoulders.

Which is why I'll have to kill her in the first place.

Adonis runs his hand through his hair. I've come to notice that this is his gesture for when he's deep into thinking. His eyes sort of cloud over, like the sky just before it rains. Maybe they're still cloudy from the loss of Kaja. In which case, that would be utterly pointless. Why can't he just get over her? She's dead.

"I bet it was Anna." Julian says thoughtfully. "She's getting out of hand. I say we put a stop to the problem."

"Definitely." I agree with him. "We should hunt her down. It's getting dark already, so we should hurry and head out."

Julian rubs his hands together. "All right then. A hunt it is."

Everyone perks up at this. Nothing gets Careers going more than the prospect of seeing blood. To top that, we're all immensely bored. Honestly, if the crazies like Anna don't kill us off first, the boredom just might.

It's odd. I never once imagined the Games to be boring. But the emotions vary greatly here. When I'm not pumping with adrenaline and chasing someone down, I'm sitting in silence for hours on end.

But a hunt? Now that is called for.

Everyone leaps to their feet. We grab our weapons and loo around with wild eyes.

I can't wait.

Dusk is the best time to start a hunt.

I always have loved dusk. When the colors all blur and meld together. Sometimes, on my favorite nights of all, the sky will turn tinged with a blood red color. Splayed wildly across the clouds. Soft clouds. Red like blood.

To get peace, there has to be blood.

That is logic. Pure and simple.

But Julian holds up his hand at us. He eyes our excited expressions, filled with bloodlust. "Now wait just a minute." He says slowly. "We need to split up. Three and three, got it?"

We sigh. Of course. Someone needs to guard the supplies. And not just one person either.

"Gavin, you stay behind." Orders Julian.

He groans. "C'mon. It's only cause of my arm, huh? It's healed now, I swear it. All bandaged up and good to go. The bitch's dagger was tiny, anyway." Gavin mumbles.

Julian shakes his head. "Don't take it personally. I'll have Shimmer and Velvet guard with you, and they aren't injured in the slightest. We need strong guys here to guard. Anna might get hungry. Who knows? Casper or those other girls we were talking about might be planning an attack. We just can't be sure about anything."

"What?" Velvet yelps. "I don't want to just sit here, thank you very much."

"Me neither!" Shimmer whines.

"Oh, who asked for your opinion anyway?" Adonis snaps.

I notice with a little flutter that this gets Shimmer opening and closing her mouth like a fish. A shocked, rejected fish.

But there is something odd, though.

That being that she doesn't protest further. Normally, Shimmer would start a huge argument about how she disagrees that Julian should be leader of us at al.

She just doesn't say a word after that.

Julian sighs, more to himself than anyone else. "We have to do this, guys."

I don't know, though. I feel as though this may just be an elaborate plan for Julian to get away from Shimmer for just a little while.

And give Adonis a break from her clutches, too. The girl hangs onto him like flies to the blood itself.

Disgusting.

But I most certainly am not complaining. I get to spend a few hours with adrenaline pumping through me, eliminating numbers. Getting closer to the win.

Spending the evening with the more sane tributes this place has to offer.

"Adonis, Katerina." Julian motions to us. "Let's go."

So we do.

We head for a path to the right. I don't know why and I don't think there is a reason. Julian figures that the paths might even be intersecting. Besides, there are only eight of them, forming wheel spokes out from the Cornucopia. That's a limited amount for our prey.

There should be two tributes per path.

Leaves crunch underfoot and and a chorus of croaking and buzzing sounds fills the air. Dusk in a swamp is the loudest thing I've ever heard.

But us? No, we're totally silent.

I guess the silence must have been pretty maddening for Adonis. Either that, or he just doesn't understand the meaning of a sneak attack.

Either way, he completely surprised me by actually opening his mouth and _talking to me._

No one ever does that.

"So Katerina. You must really hate Shimmer, huh?"

I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile. "Um, where did you get that idea from? She reminds me of a horse, really. With her irritating voice and how she's constantly flipping her hair back. She even snorts, too."

Adonis laughs and I even hear Julian ahead of us chuckle softly.

Soon though, the darkness mixed with the humidity feels like a heavy weight. The constant croaking sounds are getting on my nerves. At leas they could provide cover if we were to sneak up on anyone.

If that was even possible.

How well can these little kids hide? It's just my luck that the one time I get to go hunting, we can't catch anyone. Oh, hah! It really does seem like I was simply talking about snaring rabbits or something. Well, that is what some of these tributes are. Scared little rabbits.

Not the ones I would be near, of course.

Except to be getting rid of them.

A slight blister begins to form in my heel. The rubber of the boot rubs against my foot and I grind my teeth to keep from bending down.

The last thing I want to look like now is weak.

That would be all kinds of wrong. Katerina Rebekah Nikolina is not weak. If there is one thing I am not, it is that ugly four-letter word.

Oh, the silence is absolutely maddening.

The really terrible thing about silence is something I've only recently discovered. Something that really comes to be realized in the Games. When silence comes, so does reverie. And with reverie comes all kinds of thought and reflection.

Which is like poison.

My thoughts end up drifting outwards. Turning to the time I taught Tesla how to braid hair. Why did I do that at all? I was supposed to be distancing myself from her. It was part of my training regimen.

Maybe that's why I'm getting caught up in all this. Because I didn't follow my regimen exactly.

I am nothing if not exact.

All I need to do is get my focus back. That's all. Once I have my focus, surely everything will fall into place. It will all be fine.

"Man, I'm starting to get tried." Julian mumbles.

Adonis pants softly beside me. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear we were going in a circle. It must be hours have past, and still no sign of any kind of life except ours. I think we should just head back. What about you, Kat?"

I'm so glad he asked for my opinion at all that I hardly even care that he used that nickname for me. When Adonis says it, it's kind of okay. Like this really is all a Game. I guess I can see why Kaja liked the boy so much. With Adonis, it is far easier to pretend.

"Well." I say. "Well, it's getting really late. There'll be the anthem soon and I'd like to be back by that. There will be time to hunt in the morning. We'll just do that all day, no matter how hot it gets. We have to find Anna."

"Oh, yeah." Adonis says flatly. "We have to find Anna. And when we do, I will kill her."

I can't help but leap onto my toes at that one. "I'll be right beside you, Adonis! Really, I'll help in any way I can."

Julian gives me an odd look.

"What?" I ask, shrugging. "That girl is really serious competition."

He buys it, because he turns around without giving me a second glance.

But I know I just lied to Julian.

Anna isn't any sort of competition to me at all. Not even in the slightest.

She is unstable, where I am perfectly sane.

Sanity wins it all in the end.

So why do I feel so eager to kill the girl? Because Adonis wants to.

Adrenaline must be contagious or something.

The moon hangs low in the sky above us. Gnats and flies fill the air. Honestly, I want nothing more than to get out of this place. Never in my life have I experienced such heat and I intend to never again. No, the rest of my life will be spent in such comfort that I can't even imagine it now.

Although I suppose I have never really given much thought as to where my family will fit into all of that.

Oh, forget it. I can't afford to concern myself with them now.

I have a game to win.

It's pitch black outside by the time we've at last reached our humble camp-out by the giant metallic Cornucopia.

The first thing I notice is that it's eerily quiet.

Perhaps our allies can sense our disappointment in not having found any prey.

Maybe they are angry. The silence in the sky must be getting to them. Surely, they were expecting a cannon or two.

More numbers to knock done.

But there is no sound at all.

Julian, Adonis and I make our way over to the two tents. Unfortunately, the arrangements are by gender. So I have to spend the night with Shimmer and Velvet. It's not like we're immature children who must be kept separated. I would much prefer a male by my side, actually. Not Shimmer's hot breath and constant cursing or Velvet's tendencies to stay awake.

Sometimes, though I do hate to admit it, I am actually a little bit scared to sleep with them. Just a little.

The flap on one of the tents opens.

Just then, a cannon fires.

_Boom!_

Adonis whirls around in shock. "What the hell was that?" He splutters.

There's no way a cannon could have just fired. Could it be Anna at work again? Violet and Keira?

The tent flap opens fully and out steps Velvet.

Along her gray t-shirt, the one that's been given to all of us, is a huge streak of red blood.

Momentarily, I think it's her own. "How did that happen?" Did we get ambushed?" My words come out in a rush. Not controlled at all.

No. I have to have control. Just take a breath.

Velvet shakes her head stiffly. A very odd look is in her eyes. An almost blank look.

I would know that look anywhere.

Velvet Leporis has just killed someone.

"Where's Shimmer?" Julian whispers. "And Gavin?"

"She's right behind me." Is all Velvet says.

Sure enough, I say a flash of white-blond hair exit the tent. "I'm right here." Shimmer practically chirps.

Adonis clears his throat. "So where's Gavin?"

Velvet and Shimmer exchange a glance.

"We killed him." Velvet finally says flatly.

Julian's jaw drops. "You _what?!_"

Velvet shrugs. "We killed him. May as well. It's not like he was really doing anything at all to help. Useless and a waste of resources."

Shimmer nods her head. "He put his body a few dozen feet away, where it's a little more marshy. Don't worry. We're getting rid of the blood. Velvet slit his throat a little while after you guys left. Then, I drove a spear through him just to be sure. He only screamed a little, so you probably didn't hear it."

Julian shakes his head. "He was our ally, though. I can't believe you two had this planned out an everything."

She and Velvet just shrug again and walk back into the tent.

But Julian and Adonis say nothing further.

I don't say anything at all. Much as I love to disagree with Shimmer, I will never disagree with her when it comes to killing tributes off.

Still, that was something else. Planning this whole thing while we had our backs turned.

Wish I had thought of that.

The again, it's not like Shimmer is perfectly sane.

While I am.

So I beat her there.

And when the time comes, we will see who the true winner is.

In the stillness of the night, the first chords of the anthem begin to play.

**A/N So there were two deaths in this chapter-Markus's and Gavin's. Anna strikes for the first time and certainly not the last! I love how many antagonists this story has, really. Honestly, the bad guys often last longer than the good guys. Only the good die young, right!**

**So let me know if you had a favorite quote! Thank you!**

**The Dead:**

**D1: Katherine Jasmine Thomas**

**D3: Jace Ignis**

**D4: Markus Wade**

**D5: Jimmy Thrine**

**D6: Jake Rittler**

**D7: India Gyfer**

**D7: Raen Croele**

**D9: Thorn Kingly**

**D9: Gavin James**

**D12: Cadence Basil**

**Markus's song is Nothing to Remember by Neko Case. It was on the original soundtrack for the movie. The lyrics are really, really good. It's like I'm posting a poem or something. They describe how Markus feels being accused of murdering Perch and the guilt that weighs on him. He had so many people waiting for him at him, like Alexa who just wanted him to talk and all his brothers and sisters.**

I owe you nothing

That's all I've got for you

And you'll borrow nothing

That's what you expect of me

So you send me a love

Out of thin sailor's knots

And I fear underneath the weight of your thoughts

My footsteps now they won't echo too loudly

Don't take me home

I can't face that yet

I'm ashamed that I'm barely human

And I'm ashamed that I don't have a heart you can break

I'm just action

And other times reaction

All I own

All I own

Are the strides I spend to the finish line

All I own

All I own

Are the strides I spend to the finish line

And I'll give you those

Just don't make me go home

**Gavin's song is another from the soundtrack, called the Ruler and the Killer by Kid Cudi. While it's meant for someone with more power than he really had, it describes how he really wanted to feel good and powerful. He wanted to control his life after everything has slipped through his fingers, like with Tosh. His story is sad too, as now his parents have lost both their children. Here's a sample of the lyrics.**

When I talk you should listen

Come on, we should get it going

Now what I want is specific

Respect what I have done for thee

The ruler and the killer baby

You don't talk, you don't say nothing, OK?

To the ruler and the killer baby

Listen to me

Keep your mind on the mission

Come on, we should get it going

Now what I want is specific

You don't talk, you don't say nothing, OK?

To the ruler and the killer baby

Please pay attention

You know all you belong to me

Come on, we should get it going

Survival of the fittest, hey hey.

Lose and you will answer to me

The ruler and the killer baby


	30. Day Four: Cruel Twists

**A/N Big news, everybody! I have just created my very own fiction press account! My pen name is mango-fetish and I have a story called Heading For Sun. It would mean a lot to me if you guys went over there to check it out. Also, if any of you guys have any tips on how to be working on two stories, PM me. I keep messing up tenses and all that because my other story is in third person, past tense. But for now, let us progress. **

**This chapter will have POVs that aren't in order by district. Just ordered to fit what's happening in the story.**

**Howl Jennings's POV**

I can feel the sun rising.

The skin on my back, under the gray t-shirt, seems warmer already.

I shift slowly and open my eyes.

From where I'm lying on my stomach, the first thing I see is a brilliant emerald green leaf, patterned with dew from last night. Amazing, really. How many little touches are in this place. How much detail goes into it all. Even the pattern of veins on the leaf seems perfect.

Of course, there isn't much time for reverie.

Considering the next thing I see is a giant spider right behind the leaf.

It has strange red marking all over it and is probably the size of my hand. I sit up very, very slowly.

Behind me, I hear Oak's gasps, coming out short and hollow. He must have woken up around the same time as me and spotted the same thing I did. Now, his eyes are wide in shock. "Don't move." He says through clenched teeth.

"You didn't have to tell me twice."

Oak blinks, trying to appear calm. The spider is now just inches from my leg. "Okay." Oak says. "Okay, j-just stay calm. Whatever you do, don't scream. Even if it bites you, you can't scream. They'll hear you."

I nod stiffly. "No screaming. Got it." I whisper back to him. "It's not going to bite me, though."

"What?" Oak is paralyzed with fear. I can see the spiders fangs. I mean, I always knew spiders had fangs. But I've never seen a spider that was so big that I could actually view the things before.

My voice comes out calm and unwavering. "You are going to hand me that large gray rock right next to you. And you will hand it to me, and I am going to kill this thing."

"You can't do that." There's a note t panic in Oak's voice."That thing is probably a muttation. What if it can jump or something? What then?"

"If it really is a mutant, Oak, then I have no other choice. Getting bitten by a poisonous spider and just sitting here and letting that happen is not an option I will consider. There's no doubt. That spider is here for a reason. It kills. And I'm not just going to take that. Now hand me the rock."

Oak picks up the rock. He has to use both hands because he's shaking so hard.

I grasp my hand around the stone. It's pretty hard to hold in just one hand, so it might just be heavy enough to kill the mutant spider. Well, if that isn't my favorite combination of words? Mutant spider. Just terrific.

The spider is creeping closer and I can practically feel it's hairs touching my leg.

Exhaling sharply, I slam the rock down.

For a moment, I can't even look.

What if I didn't get it? Any second now, I'll be in excruciating pain. What have I done?

And then, I hear a little sound from Oak. A sigh of relief.

I did it. Beneath the rock, I can see a tiny pool of some unnamable color. No doubt spider guts. Yipee.

Oak grabs me into an embrace, obviously still in shock because I don't think we've ever done that before. Not even when we were little kids. But I'm so relieved to not be dying a slow, agonizing death at the hands (or fangs, rather) or a little thing not the size of my hand.

So I let his arms fold around me and I give a little sigh of relief right back at him.

"You are something else, Howl." He says into my ear. "Name one other girl who could face off to a spider that size like that. Go on, try it."

He makes a smile come onto my lips. "It's just a little bug. Though, I would like to see how that Shimmer would react if she woke up to find him in her hair."

Oak snorts and covers up his mouth before he lets out a full belly laugh.

My own hair isn't looking so good itself. 'Course, I never took real good care of it before. But now, the black wild and curly strands hang greasy and limp. It's been four days. Why do these Games take so long?

It feels to me like the whole thing is terribly dragged out.

It really is torture, just sitting around and waiting for an attacker to come. Bringing sudden and agonizing death.

And as for me? Well, of course I'm too young to die. I would be meeting Mama. Someday, somehow. Most people stopped believing in stuff like heaven a long time ago. But a lot of us in Ten still hung on to the belief that heaven was there. Religion's gone.

That doesn't mean heaven is too, though, right?

There is one thing on my mind, though. And it just won't leave.

"Howl?" Oak asks softly. "You okay?"

I shift on the ground. Right now, we're hiding off one of those paths, in a marshy grove of trees. It's pretty hidden, being a few dozen feet from the path. There's a little cave where we can hide in and sleep in. The ground is covered in at least two inches of mud, though.

Oh, well. At least under the tree it's dry. Besides, a little wet dirt never hurt anyone.

"I guess I'm okay. I mean, I was just thinking, is all."

Oak's brown eyes flood with concern. One of the many reasons why I liked him so much back home and why he's my ally here. "Yeah? About what?"

"Just that I never, well I never got to, you know, do it. If I die here, I'm going to die a virgin. And missed what a whole part of life is all about." I say quickly, as if by saying it quickly it somehow makes me never have said it at all.

"Oh, um, well, okay. I mean, are you…suggesting something?" Oak blushes deeply.

I punch him lightly in the arm. "No, you idiot!"

Oak's face is bright red. He shrugs. "Well, if you wanted to…"

"Don't be stupid, Oak. I wouldn't know what the hell to do anyways and I don't think you would either. Besides, this is on television, you know."

"You got that right." He grins shyly at me.

Then, he pulls me closer to him. I don't even have time to jump back in surprise. "But just because we can't do _that, _it doesn't mean I can't kiss you."

And he does.

He leans in and touches his lips to mine. and I touch mine back. It isn't like I thought it would feel like. Much more gentle. Softer, somehow. Like the time I touched that butterfly's wing.

Yeah, that's it. Exactly like touching a butterfly's wing.

I settle back, smiling to myself. "Okay. Now I can't say I've never been kissed."

"Okay." Oak says.

"Okay."

Silence covers us, heavy as the humidity in the swamp. Here, it's like someone shoved a cloth over my mouth. A boiling, hot cloth. Sure, it used to get hot in Ten. But that was dry heat. The sun just beat down on you, but it didn't feel like this. It's hotter than hell here. And we're both starving. We haven't had anything to eat since we picked the berry bush clean yesterday.

"W-would you mind if I held your hand, Oak? I mean, it's kind of a stupid question. I know. It's just that both of us aren't gonna win and it would sure be a miracle if just one of us did."

He looks back at me. "You didn't have to ask, you know."

And his fingers loop themselves around mine.

I sure wouldn't be acting like this at home. No, it was like I was in my own world back there. Like everybody was my enemy and I all alone. That's how I thought when I first got voted in, too. Felt like the whole world was up and against me.

Now, though, in the arena, things have changed. Death draws closer and the clock is ticking. Every second could be mine or Oak's last.

I'll do anything to stop the clock. I will. Oak says I'm a tough girl. Sam said that too.

Momma said that.

Here in the arena, it's like my eyes are being opened a little. Even though most of the kids here wouldn't hesitate to kill me, and though things are looking pretty bad right now, there's somebody on my side. He was on my side the whole time.

Now that's a good thing to come to and realize.

Oak gives my hand a squeeze. "Hey Howl? If you get home, tell my Mom and Dad and aunt and uncle and brothers and all my cousins, especially Agnes, that I loved them more than anything. And I want them to move on. Cause I'll be at peace and all that."

" Yeah, you can tell my Dad I love him, too. And I guess my stepsister and stepmom, even if they did treat me like shit sometimes. We're kinda family, so that's that with them. But you aren't going before me, Oak. I'll make damn sure of that."

"You never know." He says sadly. "You just never know."

Then, as if right on cue, we hear crashing from behind us.

It's like our last part of the conversation triggered something. Or someone.

There's no time to duck into our tree hole and hide. Whoever it is, he or she has already gotten off the path and is trying to run through the mud. I can tell by the squelching sound of boots.

Oak passes me the knife. "You can use it better than me." He whispers, terrified.

Why, oh why, did we only pick up one knife at the Bloodbath? It's not like that many kids were killed there! Man, this is all my fault. Oak deserves that knife, not me.

So I toss it over to him.

"Are you insane?!" He gasps. "What are you doing? That's your knife. Just take it, what the hell am I supposed to do with it?"

"It will be okay, Oak. Just trust me on this."

I'm just going to have to face our attacker.

It's okay. It will be okay. I'll make it okay.

Oak doesn't even have time to protest. I can see the flash of a ponytail.

I've done tough things before. This isn't the first time things have looked real bad for me. Heck, at the Bloodbath, that Shimmer girl was inches away from hitting me with her spear. I only managed to duck away at the very last second. And by some stroke of luck, she lost her footing in that slippery mud.

Luck. That's what I need. And courage.

Anna, the girl from Six, appears in the shadows the trees are casting.

Her eyes seem to gleam bright. Pieces of hair fall into her face and her legs sway slightly. Like she's gonna fall over any minute. But I know that won't happen. Anna's staying for a fight.

"Hello," She says.

And then, she comes running straight at me.

Without even thinking, I throw myself in front of Oak.

I see a flash of bright silver in the air. It cuts through it. Spinning in a circular motion. But it's not balanced. I can see that right away, in only the split second of time it takes.

The knife, spinning wildly, flies against a backdrop of green. The vines and the bushes and the trees are calling it back. _It's too late. _They seem to say.

_It's too late._

The knife Oak just threw never hits its target.

Anna just keeps running and the knife whizzes right by her. It sticks into a nearby tree, making a horrible thudding sound. She gets to Oak first, somehow. And though my heart leaps in fear, she does nothing but throw him down. He gasps as his ankle twists. All the while, I can hear an echo of the knife's thud.

And I feel a thud of my own.

I try to turn around. Run. That's what I have to do. Oak and I. We'll run away as fast as we can. We're Ten kids. We've got real strong legs from climbing up hills all day. We can do it.

But I don't make it, either.

Just by a split second.

In that moment, I see Oak's wild eyes. We make eye contact, him and I. He latches onto my gaze with fleeting, desperate eyes. A look that says all hope is gone.

Anna throws herself on top of me.

She forces my arms to my sides and pins them there. I can't help it. I let out a strangled gasp.

Out of surprise, or pain, or concern for Oak, petrified behind me. Her knee jabs into my stomach and I resist the urge to vomit, though I can feel it building up in my throat.

My legs give a swift kick. And it almost works, too.

But Anna is much larger than me. She must be at least 5'7, with forty or more pounds to me.

I'm trapped.

There's no worse feeling in the world.

It's like time itself slows down while she brings out her dagger. It's curved sharply, not like a knife. Another strangled cry escapes my lips. No. Please. It can't be too late. It's never too late. I can still fight back, right?

I have some fight left in me. I always have fight in me.

Anna laughs, a sound like glass shattering on the floor. "Oh, be quiet, little girl. It's not like your little lover over there can do anything."

Oak screams something, but I can't hear it. He holds his hands over his ankle and tries to stand. Crazily, the one thought I can manage is thanks that the ankle isn't broken. He's trying to stand on it. Maybe he can run. Maybe Oak has a chance.

"Besides," Anna says. "It'll all be over soon. You'll see."

Every muscle in me tenses up, expecting an explosion of pain.

Anna lifts up her hand smoothly.

Like she's done this a million times before.

I see her move the dagger down in one swift motion. Really, all I can see is the blur of the dagger.

There's a wetness on my face.

I'm crying. Tears are running down my eyes and slipping down my face. Salty, hot dampness.

That's the last thing I feel before the dagger goes into my chest.

At first, all I feel is cold. It feels just like someone drove an icicle through my gut.

There's a strange tugging sensation, with ice, ice cold.

Everything is suddenly electrified.

There's a brilliant flash of white light. Sparks ignite and flames spread. All over the trees and the bushes and the vines. There is no more green. There is only white. An electric bolt of light.

Spots everywhere. I barely feel my hands shooting upwards from the pain. It isn't like any pain I've ever, ever felt. Not like pain at all.

Only lightning.

Colors all blur and there's red, too. Red with the white, on the ground beneath me.

Suddenly, everything is very, very hot.

There's hot spreading out from stomach. Warm, red and wet heat.

Another flash of white-hot pain.

Someone is screaming. Who is screaming? It makes the white vibrant and only get even brighter. Is it Oak screaming? Is it me screaming?

Yes. I am the one screaming.

Everything is on fire.

_"NO!" _A shout loud enough to make the trees rattle fills the air with all its white and reds and colors far too bright to stand. Oak shouts loud enough for me to hear it. No. It's only two letters, Oak. You will have to do better than that, Oak. No will not save anyone.

You tried, though, Oak. You really, really tried.

_It's too late._

The fire whispers it.

_It's too late._

**Keira Thyme's POV**

Violet and I crash through the vines.

"How do you know we're going the right way, Vi?"

She bites her lip solemnly. "Just follow the sound of that scream. Even if we do end up walking into to Career territory by accident, then we just attack them anyways."

I can't help but grin a little. "You got it."

"What happened?" Violet's voice is a low whisper. "Who screamed?"

"I don't know. But I'm not an idiot, either. I'm pretty sure if we just follow the trail of screams, it'll lead us straight to Anna."

"Follow the trail of screams." Violet repeats flatly. "Yeah, that's about right."

We're running down one of the dirt paths. Every few seconds, one of us will stop. Thinking we see something move. But we never look long enough to stop and see what it is. I don't want to know. And even though Violet is from the bayou, I don't think she wants to know either.

Snakes. Spiders. Even things we aren't even looking out for.

Next thing I know, there could be some sort of poisonous butterfly I let land on me.

Now that would be one humiliating way to die.

But this? What we're doing now?

This is noble, pure and simple. We're going to avenge whoever screamed. Rescue, if it's not too late already. But it probably is.

Although Anna does love adding a little showmanship to her sadism, she does get the job done.

We're getting closer. I can feel it.

I step in froth of Violet. There's a small curtain of vines hiding a grove of trees, not to far from the path.

This is the place. This is where I heard the scream.

Slowly, we peer around the corner of the tree.

The first thing I see is a crumpled body on the ground. The girl from Ten with the wild black hair lies all curled up, barely breathing. A circle of red soaks into the green moss. Her hand covers the hilt of a dagger sticking out of her chest. Even though her eyes are open, I can tell they aren't seeing anything.

"Oh man." Violet whispers.

Anna stands, swaying slightly, just a few feet from the body. She holds another dagger in her hands.

Beneath Anna is a very alive Oak.

He's paralyzed with fear. Every muscle in him is shaking. Oak looks around wildly, searching for a way out. It must have been him who screamed "No!" The word that shook through the trees and vines.

The word that sent Violet and me running.

"Get her, Violet." I say to her, softly but firmly.

Oak may not be our ally. But we were considering him, and Howl too. They were together. Friends or lovers, I don't know. But I do know that they were close. Yes, Violet and I want to win. Yet we both made it clear to each other that we weren't touching Oak or Howl.

And now that someone else has, it feels like Anna broke some sort of unmentionable boundary.

Violet readies her knife.

But before she can throw it at Anna, a crashing sound comes through the trees.

She turns to me in surprise.

The knife never gets thrown.

Because the entire Career pack has just ran into the clearing.

No one even has time to think. Before Anna can turn her head, Katerina throws a knife.

She's the girl from Five. I saw her in training. She was pretty incredible with those knives. She throws them like they're just a part of her. And maybe there are. Katerina reminds me in so many ways of those knives she throws.

Right now, she has that harsh, ice-cold look on her face.

Her lips curl with slight pride as she watches her knife become lodged right in Anna's throat.

"Jeez." Violet whispers, very softly next to me. No point in showing ourselves to the Careers. Anna lets out a strangled cry, but because the knife is in her throat, hardly any sound at all comes out. And I like that. I like seeing Anna Corinna being finally silenced.

Violet shakes her head. "Jeez." She says again. "A throat shot. That takes skill. I coulda hit her in the chest, no biggie. But a throat shot? I dunno 'bout that one."

Julian runs up to Anna, presumably to make sure that she's dead by running his dagger through her.

And in this confusion, Oak manages to sprint away.

"Hey!" Velvet shouts, pointing to his running body. She draws a knife from her belt.

But Adonis sets his hand firmly on her shoulder. He shakes his head. "Don't do it. He'll be dead soon anyway. Just let him run. We got Anna."

Now why would he do something like that? Don't all Careers just love killing?

Maybe Adonis is different. Maybe he just wants to do things all right and noble, like Vi and me.

We crouch down lower.

Anna twitches on the ground.

_Boom!_

The cannon blast shakes the leaves. The Careers all stare up.

"Was that Anna's or the small girl's?" Shimmer wonders out loud.

"The girl from Ten's. Anna's heart's still beating." Julian announces. "But she'll be dead in a moment."

Sure enough, as an answer to his statement, a second cannon booms.

Velvet surveys the scene. A pol of blood surrounds Anna's body, as well as Howl's. The hovercrafts, with their giant metal claws, will arrive at any minute.

I hate those things.

And I'll do everything in my power to keep from getting lifted up in one.

Violet and I have lighting-fast heartbeats. We're just waiting for one of the Careers to spot us. Both of us are grabbing on our knives. My knuckles are white. But they never see us. Nobody even thinks to look our way. With Julian in front, the pack slowly walks away from the clearing.

"Let's get out of here, okay?" Violet jabs my shoulder.

"Yeah. Okay."

Slowly, we stand up. My legs won't stop shaking.

A low breeze kicks up, cooling the air for just a moment. But it's not relief. The breeze is only coming from the whirring of a hovercraft.

Violet and I walk out of the grove of trees, our boots squishing in the mud. We walk down the dirt path, back to our little creek bed. The Careers went the other way, to their little field.

Still, we grab our knives.

"Anna's dead." Violet says the words flatly to herself, not really believing them.

"So who's left?"

Violet shrugs. "Who should we be worried about?"

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Violet. We don't need to be scared. No more being scared of anything. For either of us, okay? I'm done with that and so are you."

"Oh yeah. No more being scared. At all!" She punches her fist into the air, which makes me laugh.

"Okay, so there's Julian, along with Adonis, Shimmer, Katerina and Velvet in the Career pack. Most of them are still here, obviously. I say we lay off on the sneak attacks until one more of them dies. Oak's still alive, but from the way the Careers were talking, not for long. Then there are Casper and Aya, who we could team up with, if we wanted to."

She nods. "Casper's real good with the archery and that Aya girl seems okay. But did you forget somebody?"

I scratch my head. "Huh. I dunno."

Violet claps her hands. "Oh! Gav and Jezi! The two younger ones from Eleven and Twelve. They're allies."

"Gav and Jezi? No way. How'd they survive this long, anyways?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

We wander over to the lazy, murky creek. The water loops around moss-covered rocks and our boots slip in the mud.

My stomach grumbles. "Oh man. I'm starving."

"There are lots of lizards around here. I'll just get one with my knife. Did it all the time back home." Violet grins.

I shake my head. "I don't think so. We can't just eat a lizard raw. And a fire would send the Careers straight at us."

But Violet is still smiling.

"Why are you smiling like that? You know Vi, when you get to grinning like that, I get a little worried."

"C'mon, Keira. You must think I'm a stupid idiot or somethin'. No, I got a plan. We're out pretty far in this arena, aren't we?"

I shrug. "Yeah. I guess so."

Violet nods, like she's encouraging me. "So what's at the edge of the arena?"

"A forcefield. If you wanna get electrocuted, fine." But then, it hits me. "You really are insane, aren't you?"

"And you're still alive cause of it!" Violet exclaims. "Now let's go get us a lizard!"

So she pulls out one of her throwing knives and tosses it at a tree. I didn't even see the large brown lizard on it. The knife sticks out, glinting in the late-afternoon sun. My ally sure can throw. Victor, he brother, taught her how. Violet talks about him a lot. Guess she misses him.

"Nice throw."

She goes to get the dead lizard. "I'll get us another one, cause my stomach's grumbling louder than a lion's roar."

And she pegs another one, sitting on a log sunning itself. Hits it like it's nothing at all.

Man, I am one lucky girl.

Violet grabs the two now very dead lizards. "Let's go."

We stick close to each other. One never knows who could be hiding in these trees and behind the vines.

The swamp is a real scary place sometimes, I will admit it. And if it wasn't the arena, I would be scared of it. All those shadows everywhere.

But I'm not. I've got Violet here and we made a pledge. We're not gonna be scared and that is that.

Hot and hungry, we walk on.

"How do we know when we hit the end?" I ask her.

She blinks twice. "Good question. Wouldn't want to go walking into it or anything. But I bet there'll be some kind of sign. Like everything just stopping, you know? We won't see any more swamp stuff anymore."

And she's right.

We've only walked a little, but suddenly there are no more trees anymore. There's just a huge path of brown mud that isn't even that thick, lying right under a humming forcefield of some sort. That humming sound must be the electricity that we're going to use to cook ourselves some dinner.

"This is it. Hear that humming noise?"

Violet nods solemnly. "Sure do."

And suddenly, she chucks a limp lizard at the thing.

It hits the invisible wall with a whole bunch of force and comes ricocheting back at her. I duck down in surprise, which makes Violet crack up.

The lizard falls to the ground, completely fried and sizzling.

I get to throw the other lizard and then we sit down to eat.

But not before Violet skins the things.

"How'd you know how to do that?"

She grins. "Victor and my daddy took me lizard hunting with them all the time. The meat's not to so bad, if you nothin' else."

And it's not. A little slimy, but it goes down just fine with some berries we picked earlier and brought along with us.

We lie down on a dry spot and watch the sky change darker.

It doesn't even seem possible, really. I don't think anyone else except for me could feel it at all here.

But I feel safe.

**A/N So this was a little bit of a shorter, more action-filled chapter for you guys. Hope you enjoyed it and any feedback is awesome! **

**The Dead:**

**D1: Katherine Jasmine Thomas**

**D3: Jace Ignis**

**D4: Markus Wade**

**D5: Jimmy Thrine**

**D6: Anna Corinna**

**D6: Jake Rittler**

**D7: Raen Croele**

**D7: India Gyfer**

**D9: Gavin James**

**D9: Thorn Kingly**

**D10: Howleen Jennings**

**D12: Cadence Basil**

**Anna's song is Disturbia, sung by Rihanna. The way I came up with this was actually kind of strange. I was flipping channels on the radio and the song was playing on one of them. The lyric playing was "Am I scaring you tonight?" So I stopped to listen cause I was intrigued. When the song finished I was like "Yes! This is gold!" The lyrics fit with her unhinged mind in all its complexity.**

It's a thief in the night to come and grab you

It can creep up inside you and consume you

A disease of the mind, it can control you

It's too close for comfort

Put on your pretty lies, you're in the city of wonder

Ain't gon' play nice, watch out you might just go under

Better think twice, your train of thought will be altered

So if you must falter be wise

Your mind's in disturbia, it's like the darkness is light

Disturbia, am I scaring you tonight?

Disturbia, ain't used to what you like

Disturbia, disturber

**Howl's song is Never Go Back by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. When you read the lyrics like I do, they're sad in a bittersweet way. Like she's in a better place now, but she really just wants Oak to join her there, now that she's out of the arena. She wants Oak to be safe with her.**

**Y**ou runnin' around in circles

But you won't find no better than this

And after all your searchin'

You come back to the place that you missed

But I'm closin' up for the season

I see you out there you're freezin'

Oh no, oh no

I'll never go back there no more

Oh no, oh no

I'll never go back there no more

Lookin' at my heart beat

Like I've never seen it before

Too alive to ever sleep

And this street is keeping me warm

I'm pushin' up on the ceiling

I'm beatin' back all my demons


	31. Day Five: Too Soon

**A/N Sorry for the slower updates lately. I know excuses are generally lame, but I'm taking a very difficult math course, so I have to spend time studying like a god student and all that. So I'm so happy to be writing again! **

**Gav Little's POV**

The first thing I feel is a sharp poke in my ribs.

I groan to myself. "Jeez, Jezebelle. You're near as bad as my own little sister."

She leans down and smiles, her hair falling in my face. "I know, Gav. You tell me that all the time. And call me Jezi, for goodness sake. That name's just too stuffy. So what's your real name? Is it Gav for real?

Rubbing my short hair, I yawn. I'm surprised I've been able to sleep at all the past few days. But somehow, the knowledge that I actually made it this far wakes me up.

Maybe cause it scares me awake.

"Yeah, it's not my real name."

Jezi stomps her foot, but it doesn't really work cause the mud here is so deep that her boots don't make a sound. "Well don't just tell me that. I wanna know what it is."

The strange thing about Jezi is that she really is such a kid. Even though we're both twelve. She sure does act different. Mostly, she tries so hard to seem older and tougher. But sometimes, this side of her, a little girl, comes out. What's really strange though is that she doesn't seem to realize just how desperate our situation is.

How could she not, though? Maybe I'm just being stupid.

Maybe she's just in denial. Yes, that's what that's called. When you go around pretending that everything's fine and dandy and you aren't fighting for your life.

Suddenly, a whole rush of thoughts enter my mind.

India. That's what India did.

She couldn't help it. That's just how she was. And here I was, thinking something was so wrong with her brain. That she was retarded. That's the word I used. That mean, ugly, nasty word on such a girl.

If my mama had heard me, she woulda been so ashamed.

I bet she'd say what I did was like stepping on a butterfly.

That's just what I did. I broke that butterfly and it just couldn't fly anymore after that.

The truth?

I was jealous.

Jealous might seem like a right strange word to use to describe how I was then. Was that all really just a week ago? It felt like a different time entirely. But I wanted what India had. I wanted that blissful haze she walked around in. Not like Jake with his drugs. No, she just had that haze right there in her mind.

What did it feel like?

Was it like walking around in heaven, even though everyone around her was in hell?

Musta really been something.

And I yanked it straight away from her.

"Gav?" Jezi scooches in closer to me. "You okay?"

"Sorry, Jezi. I'm okay, I guess. But India isn't. That's what's been eating away at me. She's dead and she died all sad and confused, cause of me."

Jezi shakes her black hair. "What are you talking 'bout?"

"A week ago, before the Games, I got real mad at India. I called her a retard and I told her she was gonna die. Nobody cared about her. That's what I made it sound like to her. I don't even know why. Guess I was mad at everything and everyone then."

She traces her foot in the mud. We're by a slow-moving creek. I saw Violet and Keira across from us yesterday, but haven't seen them since. "So you're not mad anymore, then?" Jezi asks slowly.

"Nope. I ain't mad one bit."

Jezi smiles a little. "That's good. How come?"

"The way I see it, Jez, there's just no point to it. This is hell, sure. And I'm likely to die. But what can I do about it, 'sides fight for my life? Being angry certainly won't help."

"Jez?" She giggles at her newest nickname. Her falls pretty quickly, though.

This time, it's me who pokes her. "What's the matter?"

"I just don't wanna die, Gav. I'm only ten years old."

I swallow hard. Blood rushes to my brain. Ten? How could she be ten? "What?!"

Her eyes widen in shock. Jezi claps a hand to her mouth. "Shit!" She curses softly. "Aw man, I've really gone and done it now."

"What are you talking about? How's that even possible?"

Jezi closes her eyes slowly. "Yeah, I'm ten years old. Eleven in July. I'm only here cause in District Twelve, we got to get tesserae, even with the Quell. Twig told me they were keeping away the protests by doing that. Anyways, my friend Mel and me, we had to get tesserae cause we had to feed Wagner and Kelsie. They're my little sisters."

"But how'd you get in? You mean you never even got caught?" My brain is just filling with so many questions, it seems like I can't even get a word out.

This time, Jezi smiles. She really is just a little kid. Her eyes light up with that same mischief. "I may be little but I ain't stupid. No, I'm completely off the record. I'm a street kid. Those government guys have probably never heard of a Jezebelle Holden. There's just too darn many kids out there to keep track of."

"So you slipped right through everyone's fingers."

She sits up proudly. "Gav, I am just like sand. I've been slipping through people's fingers since I was born."

I say the only thing I can think to say. "Guess you aren't as short as I thought you were."

She laughs loudly and gives me a punch for that one. "It doesn't matter, though. There's nothing anybody can do now, so I'm not worried about getting into any trouble."

"Man." I say softly. "Man. You are really are something."

We sit for a while like that as the air slowly gets hotter and hotter. We need water. The water bottle with the clip of stuff I think is for purifying is all out. Maybe if I could go into the creek and fill it up and out a few drops of the iodine in it, we could have something to drink.

This gravel is digging into my thigh, so it's probably best if I get up anyway.

"You thirsty, Little Miss Fearless?"

She stretches. "Sure am. Hungry too. All I've had to eat was that last apple last night. Why'd you have to get the apple sack, huh? Why not one with candy in it or at least some meat?"

I chew my lip. My stomach's been growling all morning. "I bet there are tons of fish in the creek. We could catch one, right?"

Her eyes widen to an even bigger brown. "What about crocodiles?"

"Okay, okay. No fish, then."

Jezi sighs. "I'm so hungry."

I pat her knee. Just like I do with Azalea when she's complaining about her rumbling tummy. Or when Olive goes to bed quietly whimpering, or Lily tugs my sleeve and points to her mouth. Or when Willy and Basil look up at me with their wide, hungry eyes.

There's much else I can do 'sides pat her knee.

It's frustrating to know that. It really is.

When you feel hopelessness set in, there's nothing worse than that deep, black feeling that has gone and set itself way down in your gut.

Nope. Nothin' worse.

"It's gonna be okay, Jezi. You'll see. We're gonna be okay."

She smiles a little. "Yeah. I guess you are right about that. I mean, I trust you, Gav. You're like my big brother."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Really."

"Seems then like it's a good time to tell you my real name is Gavroche."

Jezi wrinkles her nose. "Gavroche? What kind of snooty shit is that?"

I give her arm a little swat. "C'mon. I don't know how those street kids talked, but I am not letting a ten year old walking around cursing worse than a sailor, you hear me? Around me, you talk like a ten year old."

"Oh fine. But what's up with the name?"

I sit up straighter. Mama always loved telling people about the story of my name. "It's from a far away place. Back before the oceans all flooded and came up on land, which is where oceans ain't supposed to be, it used to be that people could go away to far-off lands. My great-grandaddy went off to one of those countries cause he wanted to get away from Eleven, back when people still could. He couldn't stay long though, but he stayed in a village where there was this statue of a boy named Gavroche."

"Where was the place? Who's Gavroche?"

"I dunno what the name is. Over time, people just forgot stuff like that, Jezi. Anyways, this boy was some street kid who went on to be loved by all these people cause he did some great things for some war. So my great-grandaddy came home and named his son, my grandad, Gavroche. My mom named me that cause even though I was born poor, I can still do great things."

Jezi looks thoughtful. "That's a real good story, Gav."

"My mama always said the best stories are the ones you can share."

"You are pretty great, Gav. You know, like I said, my big brother. You're a good ally. At first I thought you wouldn't want to be allies with some girl even though Kaja said we should be."

Her voice drops at the mention of Kaja. Our leader.

Was. Was our leader.

"We're doing pretty okay, Jezi. You and me." I say out loud, just to hear the words.

We're all that's left. All that's left of the alliance led by Kaja, with Raen and Thorn and Jimmy and India, too. They're dead. Gone for good.

What will their families do?

Jezi looks down. "Yep." She says softly. "Just you and me."

There's silence for a second.

But silence never lasts long when you have Jezebelle as your ally.

"'Together' is a real nice word, ain't it, Gav?"

"Uh-huh. Sure is."

She examines her palm, dirty and cut up. "In fact, I do think it is the nicest word there is."

That's when I hear it.

A breaking twig. Someone just stepped on a twig. Right behind me.

A laughing call echoes, sending a bird that was perched behind us soaring upward. A girl's laugh. It cuts through the air and travel straight to my eardrums. There, it bounces around while my brain, numb with fear, tries to make sense of it. Can't be. I can't have heard what I just did.

But I did hear it.

Did I really think I could keep Jezi safe forever?

Jezi turns to look at me. "Oh shit." She whispers.

And there's nothing I can say about her choice of words now. Cause I'm thinking the exact same thing. Strange. The only thing my frozen mind can process is _Oh shit._

Shimmer bursts through the clearing first.

Jezi screams louder than I've ever heard. She grabs my arm like it's the only thing left for her to grab on earth.

So I grab back and try to pull my knife out before it's too late.

I whip the blade out of my pocket, stumbling slightly. The edge of the blade catches the sunlight.

Then, Jezi's hand is yanked back.

She didn't even have time to scream again. There's a knife, a lot bigger than mine, wedged in her stomach. Velvet pulls back her arm and looks satisfied at the throw. She smiles to herself, while Jezi crumples. Jezi's tiny, tiny body just falls down.

She grabs onto the grass beside her, like she's clinging to the earth.

Red has already begun to seep through her shirt.

A roar like an animal rips through my throat. "NO!"

Everything becomes in sharper focus. The green of the leaves, the pale of Velvet's skin, the red surrounding my little ally.

I don't even think. Don't have to. I throw myself at Velvet, screaming and screaming. I just need to hear something. Anything. I'm still alive. I'm still here. But Velvet? No, she won't be.

The only thing going through my mind right now is an empty echo. Kill.

Grunting with effort and before the rest of the Careers can do anything, I pull Velvet to the ground.

She opens her eyes wide in shock. Thinks she's invincible or something.

So I slash her throat.

One deep mark. I drive the knife so deep in there that she can't even scream. Just like Jezi can't.

Jezi's crumpled body is behind me.

She's still moving her fingers, clutching at the ground. Her eyes travel to me. And our eyes meet. Both brown. Hers are big with pain, while mine are narrowed with fear. The blood from Velvet's throat stains my hand. But Jezi's own stains hers an ugly shade.

Jezi reaches one small finger at me.

"Gav." She whispers.

I pant, holding the knife. "Jezi…" The weak sounding word is all that will come out.

And then I'm thrown into the air.

A pair of huge, tanned arms are lifting me. A dagger in one hand.

Julian.

That's what Jezi was pointing at. She wasn't trying to reach for me. No, of course Jezi isn't even scared now. She doesn't need me now.

She was trying to warn me.

I give a fight. Just like I always do. I'm squirming and biting and kicking at the hulking monster from Two. His arms feel big enough to crush me. He feels four times my size.

My hand flings back to punch him, but my fist never meets its mark.

Julian is too strong.

His gigantic arms wrap around my neck, trying to hold me down.

But then they get tighter.

And tighter.

And tighter.

Jezi's form below me and Velvet's body, still writhing, start to blur. Tiny dots start to swim and black edges in my vision slowly creep up.

Tighter.

**Casper Monroe's POV**

What started as a simple, quick run to bring back some food for Aya is turning disastrous.

I first knew something was very wrong when I heard laughter. I had been so confused. Guess I thought I was all alone, stupid me. When there were at least ten or so of us still alive and wandering around the arena.

So I crouched down in some blueberry bushes to see the source of the voices.

It ended up to be just Gav and the little girl Jezi. Harmless little kids, so I set my bow on the ground.

I was debating whether to pick some blueberries and risk being seen, or head back to Aya empty handed.

That's when the Careers made their entrance.

Now, Jezebelle is lying on the ground, clutching at her stomach, her eyes on Gav's thrashing body, but not really seeing anything.

Julian tightens his hold on Gav.

I groan softly.

Then, by some miracle, Gav manages to wriggle free.

He falls to the ground, gasping and spluttering.

But he's alive.

Silently, I sigh. The kid can't be older than twelve. His dark skin shines with sweat and tears. He must have been close to his ally. That's right. Kaja put them with each other. Before….before all of this. Maybe I should shoot. I'll send an arrow right into Julian's murderous heart.

_Boom! _There goes Velvet's cannon. Jezi is still whimpering on the ground.

But now's not the time for fantasy. I could never even so much as nock an arrow.

Then, I would be seen.

Is it worth it? Would I sacrifice myself for some kid I don't even know?

These Games are tearing me apart.

Of course I can't. I have Ellie at home and a baby. I can't risk it.

So I crouch even lower as Adonis, panting heavily and looking down at the boy's shaking form, drives his huge sword through Gav's chest.

Bile rises up in my throat and I choke it down.

Gav doesn't even utter a sound.

Adonis stands, shaking slightly. His knees buckle and he tries desperately to not look down.

The girl from Five with the knives, Katerina, crosses her arms impatiently. She looks untouched by the events. Shimmer can't stop looking at Velvet's body, the body of her ally. Her eyes have a shock in them, like she never saw that coming. Thinking Careers were immortal, probably.

Julian stares down at the bodies of two small children, obviously disgusted.

Is he disgusted merely by the gore covering the ground, or the fact that two little children are now dead?

Likely the first.

"Let's go." Katerina barks.

Shimmer gestures for Julian and Adonis to follow her.

They are all that remain of the Career alliance.

One by one, they disappear into the shadows.

Gav has curled up next to Jezi, both of them holding their stomachs. Neither one makes a sound.

But Gav slowly reaches his fingers out to Jezi's hand.

And holds on tight.

"I've got you." He chokes.

"You and me." Jezi whispers back.

They lie like that, hands holding each other.

I feel a salty tear start making its way down my face. It's been a long time since I cried. Once a boy gets to my age, he finds that often, tears just don't come out anymore.

But the image of these two children, lying curled on the ground with their hands entwined, feels like it's ripping my heart in two.

Gav gives Jezi's hand a final squeeze.

_Boom! Boom!_

Their cannons fire at the exact same time.

One final show of how together they are.

Brushing the dirt off of me, I bring myself to a stand. I should clear out of here while the noise of all those corpse hovercrafts can cover the sound of my feet. First, I grab some berries from the bushes that are hanging so heavily with them. Aya won't go hungry.

There are little kids dead.

But our world, the living world, has to keep on turning.

So I walk back to Aya and my little clearing.

Once I see the familiar circle of trees, I'm shocked out of my mind by a force slamming into me.

"Hey!" I splutter, dropping a handful of berries.

It's only Aya though, her bob of blond curls hanging wild with tear tracks down her cheeks. She hugs me in a fierce embrace.

"What's this for?"

She holds her skinny arms around my waist. "I heard three cannons, Casper. Three! I though you were dead. I really did. You had me so scared. Who was it? Who died?"

The hairs on the back of my neck bristle. "Velvet's dead."

Aya sighs and brushes a hand across her sweat-covered forehead. "Okay. Okay, Velvet's dead. I know it sounds awful, but I'm glad she's gone. Relieved, at least."

I shake my head. "No, Aya. If you had seen what she just did…it's justified."

Aya sits heavily on the moss. She's been looking a lot more weary than usual lately and her chest makes a strange rasping sound. "What did she do?" She asks in a flat voice. A cough erupts from her throat, sounding terribly wet. I can't help cringing for her.

"She killed Jezi. I don't know why. Just ran right into their little area and threw her knife at the little girl. Gav just snapped, so he killed Velvet. Then, Julian and Adonis killed Gav."

"Oh." She moans softly.

I sit down next to her. The moss is damp and muddy, but soft. After so long spent in this wretched swamp, a little dampness and mud can hardly bother me anymore. I've grown used to the strangeness of seeing dense foliage. Back in Eight, there wasn't a tree is sight. Here, they cover up the sky.

Aya leans her chin on her knees. She looks really, really thin. Emaciated, even.

"Hey, I brought us berries. They're blueberries, don't worry. I understand if you don't trust a guy from Eight, though. Seeing as how the only plants we have are weeds growing in the potholes."

She opens her hand for berries. "I'm too hungry to care."

I pop a berry in my mouth. Aya stares at hers listlessly.

"You know, Aya, sometimes things happen that you or I can't really make sense of."

"Why, Casper? Why is this happening?"

When Ellie used to get upset over how we were living, all alone, I would rub her back right between her shoulders. She said that was her "calming spot." So now, I do it on Aya, too. Her back is more bony than Ellie's, but I can still feel her give a little shudder.

"If you keep asking yourself 'Why', you're only torturing yourself. When the Treaty of Treason was first announced, people tore their hair out screaming that very word. Our grandparents and parents probably did, too. But ti didn't get them anywhere. Cause people make decisions that just don't make sense."

Aya sighs. "Yeah."

I continue. We're safe here. I can talk to my ally here. The Careers are back to their field. Anna is dead. Oak wouldn't harm a fly and Keira and Violet will get nowhere near us.

I rub Aya's back some more. Can't think why, but all girls seem to really like that. "That's one of the greatest lessons of life you can learn. Seems like it's not very profound. Well, it isn't. It's not one of those philosophical lessons, but here it is. Sometimes, people do things that just don't make sense."

"That's it?"

"Yep. That's it."

Aya buries her head in my arm. This girl could be my little sister, she really could. Ellie would love her, with her sparks of humor and lightening everything. We could really use someone to brighten our dreary situation back home. Sure, she'd fit right in. Teach Ellie how to do those impressions she does so well. She'd teach Star how to cross her eyes and laugh so hard she'd double over.

Strange, how I found her.

Maybe that is one of the reasons I was thrown into this arena.

So I could meet Aya Brow.

"Sorry you have to see all of this." I whisper under my breath.

"No, I knew what I was getting myself into. This is my payback, you know? The consequence of my stupid actions. Death's an awful consequence, but it is what it is."

The words come out louder than I expected, but Aya's words are jarring. "Don't say that! Everybody does stupid things. There's another one of my not very profound life lessons for you. And I'm not going to let you die here."

Aya snorts. "Oh yeah? So I'm supposed to believe you're just gonna let me win?"

"I just meant that I'll do whatever I can to protect you. I want you to go home."

Aya's face, previously in a sarcastic sort of smirk, falls instantly. Her brown eyes get wider and suddenly there is a depth to them that wasn't there before. A deep sort of sadness.

Even though I'm right here next to her, she still looks alone. And scared. "I-I want you to go home, too." A single tear falls out of her eye.

"Oh man. Don't cry, okay? We know we can't both go home. So let's just take this one day at a time."

"One day at a time." She repeats in a shaky voice.

"There you go. That's what Ellie and I used to say to each other."

Aya pushes a clump of wild hair from her face. "Used to?"

I shake my head. "No. I mean, that's what we do say. Say. That's what we say." My voice is stuttering. There's no way Aya's buying this.

"You said used to." She says softly.

Desperately, I try to change the subject. "You look exhausted. Why don't you rest? I've got my bow. We'll be fine."

She looks suddenly grateful at this idea, which worries me. A few days ago, I'm sure Aya would have some retort and then go on and on about how dumb it was of me to try to change the subject on her or something like that. But now, she only blinks her vacant eyes, with the purplish bags under them and closes them instantly.

And she's looking smaller than ever.

Her time is running out. I can see that now.

And what of my time?

I don't have an infinite amount left, either.

Death could be coming up behind me right now.

I curl my knees to my chest and ready the bow. A stroke of luck brought me a high score with my archery.

But luck doesn't last long.

I sit there for a while, finishing off the berries and even eating some tree bark, pretending that it's meat. What I really want, no, what I need, is Ellie's potato soup. Our little apartment filling up with the smell of it and my stomach rumbling in anticipation. The sound of her humming drifting through the walls.

That's long gone, though.

Here, the only smell is the earthy smell of mud, dirty swamp water and my own sweat from the oppressing heat.

The sounds are distant birdcalls and forts croaking. That, along with the buzz of a million unseen insects.

Nightfall brings even louder sound.

It's odd that I thought nights would be lonely and quiet, here in the swamp.

In reality, it is the complete opposite.

With all the invisible creatures around, I'm never alone.

Though they are not my preferred company, the sounds do keep me from nodding off. I have a job to do. I have to protect my ally. And any help in that, even if it does come (possibly) from mutant snakes and spiders and insects and the like, is welcome.

The notes of the anthem bring me out of my trancelike state.

It was likely designed to be as loud and overpowering as possible.

Aya still sleeps heavily, though.

A picture of Gav shows up, projected in the sky.

In the picture, taken our first day of training in a room full of cameras, he grins confidently. I can't tell whether it was for show or not, but I imagine that boy, the smiling one in the picture, was who Gav really was at home.

Not the skittish, intense boy of the arena.

Just a happy-go-lucky twelve year old who died far, far too soon.

Velvet is up next, staring into the camera with intensity. Though she doesn't look like she's trying to be intimidating, like Shimmer. She just is. Her eyes have an effect, the kind that bears right into me. Her scarlet hair and freckles are surely extremely unusual in her district.

Do they miss her?

Likely not. District Eleven doesn't take too kindly to people like Velvet.

Though I was scared of her and though I'm still disturbed by her actions this morning, it's still terrible to die alone.

No matter who you are or what you've done. Alone is the worst way to go.

Jezi's picture is last. Her black hair, the same shade as India's or Howl's, is pulled back in a ponytail, just as the corners of her mouth are filled in a sweet smile. No, more of an almost-smile. Like the camera took the picture right before she got a chance to grin. It's not a mistake, though.

The effect is haunting.

Yet another thing cut short.

She looks so young. She really, really does.

But then, I suppose we all do.

Another life lesson?

Death always comes too soon.

**A/N There you guys have it. I'm not going to do a huge author's note, as I prefer the words of the chapter to stay with you guys. This was probably one of the…darkest ones I've ever written and I hope you take something away from this. **

**The Fighters:**

**D1: Adonis Lockheart**

**D2: Julian Moretti**

**D2: Shimmer Parker**

**D3: Aya Brow**

**D4: Violet Callo**

**D5: Katerina Nikolina**

**D8: Casper Monroe**

**D8: Keira Thyme**

**D10: Oak Zulily**

**Velvet's song is "Come Away" by Maroon Five. It's a very haunting song. When I first listened to the track, it was one of my favorites. It describes the Careers very well and the lyrics match her character. It's eerie and, at one point, become almost desperate.**

Come away little lass

Come away to the water

Away from the life that you always knew

We are calling to you

Come away little light

Come away to the darkness

In the shade of the night we'll come looking for you

Come away little light

Come away to the darkness

To the ones appointed to see it through

We are calling for you

We are coming for you

Come away little lamb

Come away to the water

Give yourself so we might live anew

Come away little lamb

Come away to the slaughter

To the ones appointed to see this through

We are calling for you

We are coming for you

**Gav's song is "Run" by Snow Patrol. He is my own character, but I steadily grew more attached to him. Even though he was one of the youngest, Gav had a lot of flaws and depth to him. The song is about him and Jezi.**

I'll sing it one last time for you

Then we really have to go

You've been the only thing that's right

In all I've done

And I can barely look at you

But every single time I do

I know we'll make it anywhere

Away from here

Louder louder

And we'll run for our lives

I can hardly speak I understand

Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes

Makes it so hard not to cry

And as we say our long goodbye

I nearly do

Slower slower

We don't have time for that

All I want's to find an easy way

To get out of our little heads

Have heart, my dear

We're bound to be afraid

Even if it's just for a few days

Making up for all this mess

Light up, light up

As if you have a choice

Even if you cannot hear my voice

I'll be right beside you dear

**Jezebelle was one of my all-time favorite characters. How many of you guys thought the same? Congratulations iloverueforever for making her so memorable. Her song is Safe and Sound by Capital Cities, describing her relationship with Gav. I've pulled a few of the lyrics.**

I could lift you up

I could show you what you want to see and take you where you want to be

You could be my luck even if the sky is falling down

I know that we'll be safe and sound, safe and sound

I could fill your cup

You know my river won't evaporate this world we still appreciate

You could be my luck even in a hurricane of frowns

I know that we'll be safe and sound

I could show you love in a tidal wave of mystery

You'll still be standing next to me

You could be my luck even if we're six feet underground

I know that we'll be safe and sound

Safe and sound, safe and sound


	32. From Capital Screens

**A/N Along with this story, I've also been working on my fiction press story, so writing-wise, this has been an awesome break! Now, this chapter is going to be very different. For the first time ever, we're going to have Citizen POVs! I'm very excited for this. Interviews will start in the second part of this chapter. Of course, I'm including the family interviews! In my mind, that's the most fun part.**

**Capital Citizen-Caspian Mink's POV**

The first thing I hear when I walk into the television room is a cannon's boom.

No. That can't be. It's early in the morning. So early, in fact, that the moon has barely left its perch.

But there it is. What has become a familiar sound these past few days now comes again.

The woman sitting stiffly on the couch, her face devoid of makeup and a mug clutched tightly in her hand does not resemble my mother in the slightest. She stares at the screen flatly.

I look for a clue of what could be wrong, but all the camera shows is a view of the other tributes reacting to the blast. Violet and Keira, this two little girls, look at each other in confusion. The Careers look baffled as well. If they weren't a part in the death, who was?

"Mother? What's wrong?"

She looks down at her mug, full of strong coffee. Our Avox, an adept cook called Marius, must have fixed it for her. "He did it." She says, her voice empty of all expression. "Oak did it."

She's beginning to worry me. At fifteen years old, it's time I started to care more for my mother and not the other way around. Though granted, I was primarily raised by Marius. "Mother, did what? What did Oak do?"

I'm racking my brain trying to remember who Oak is. Ah, yes. The District Ten boy whose ally died two days ago. Weird name, that girl had. It was a shame. My parents and I did often get laughs from that tough as nails girl who refused to let anything frighten her.

Oak, though? He was less memorable. Merely hanging onto Howleen. Oh, I suppose they were cute or whatever. But, come on now. Oak, this is entertainment for so many of us! Do something other than run, am I right?

The camera suddenly pulls back in.

And there, lying crumpled on the ground, is Oak himself.

Blood seeps from his shirt. The handle of a knife stick out of his stomach.

My stomach leaps right into my throat. Bile rises up in me and I force it back down. Slowly, I sit down on the green couch next to my mother, who is staring transfixed at the screen. Her hand is shaking and coffee is spilling to the ground. "Who did it?" I ask. Though I know the answer already.

My mother sighs. "He did, Caspian. Oak killed himself this morning, about five minutes before you woke up."

"Because Howl's dead."

She nods. "Yes, I would think that was part of it. The two were very close. And I do think it also had something to do with him just not wanting to fight anymore. He probably just didn't want to see anymore death. Wants to be with Howl right now."

Anger floods my head. "That's so stupid, though! He just gave up. Do you think his audience wants to see him kill himself? Uh, no! He has to fight, Mom. Or else it's just plain boring and awful for us!"

Suddenly, she stand up.

My mother points a shaking finger at me. "How dare you?" She snarls. "How dare you talk like that? Listen to you. You have no idea what you're saying. The boy has a family, Caspian. He has little cousins that were crying for him to come back home. I saw it on the screen two days ago. All these little children and one poor sad girl called Agnes. Oh, you should have seen it. It broke my heart, it did."

"It shouldn't have." I retort. "They deserve it. They deserve all of it. That's what we're taught in school. Besides, it's just television."

I feel an ache in my throat as soon as the words are out. Because now, my mother's face falls. She looks very, very defeated. "Of course." She says softly. "That is what you learn in school, isn't it? I'm sorry. When I was your age the Games didn't exist, so I'm still learning how to deal with this. I'm sorry."

My father enters the room, his shoes echoing on our marble floor. "What is this racket?" He fidgets with the sash of his crimson bathrobe.

"Nothing, Dad." I say quickly.

He clears his throat gruffly. "I hear we're in the final eight now."

"Yes. Oak from Ten passed away a few minutes ago," Is my mother's slightly stiff answer. "The interviews will begin shortly."

Dad waves his hand. "Bah! The family interviews are fine if you love getting the gossip or something. But I find them pointless. I've got my money on that Julian boy, so I'll be tuning back in once they can get back to the action. Call me when all that sappy interview stuff is over."

Mom looks at me expectantly.

"Caspian? Are you going to watch with your mother or will you come with me to the Betting Room?"

The Betting Room is a large building a few blocks away designed specifically for the Games. Men, and the occasional woman, gather there to drink, eat and watch the Games from all the screens. And, of course, bet. the drinking games there can get pretty wild. Favorites this year include drinking every time a tribute screams for seeing some spider or snake and taking another shot whenever Shimmer glares at Julian or a swig when Katerina makes a sarcastic comment.

"Actually, I think I'll stay with Mom."

He shrugs. "Suit yourself. Marius can whip up some eggs or something."

And then he walks away, heading to his quarters to put on his suit with the mink trimming, as a tribute to our family's name.

Mother pats the couch next to her. "Caspian, it is so kind of you to stay and watch with me. Don't tell your father, but all the interviewing is my favorite part."

I smile at her and nod obediently, like the good son I am. Although I've always found the interviewing to be quite dull. But her fragile self looks so eager now that I can't bear to turn her down. And I've never watched the interviews before at all. So why not?

Cassius Milan, the official interviewer, papered on the screen.

The bombardment of color from his electric blue suit and all the things on the train taking him to District One was a shock. After the dreariness of the swamp, crawling with eerie shadows, this was a welcome return.

But for some reason, I find myself annoyed with the grinning man.

Whereas I'd never given Cassius much thought before, now I am irritated by that sickly grin.

I go into the bright and airy kitchen. There, Marius stands at the counter beating a bowl of yellow eggs. A loaf of snow-white bread is all cut, with bowls of vibrantly colored jellies jiggling in it. I spread some blackberry jelly on the bread and chew as I watch Marius's proceedings.

"The interviews are on." I say simply. "The family interviews? Don't you usually like to watch those?"

Marius nods. Yes, he does like to watch them. I suppose it's to get a glimpse of home, which for him is District Eight. He was caught running messages for a secret underground almost twenty years ago, when he was twelve. Had his tongue cut right off of him, then was passed from family to family till he ended up here.

"Isn't it something that there are two tributes left from Eight? I don't think one's ever made it to the final eight, let alone two."

Marius sets some wiggly eggs on my plate and sends me back into the television room.

But I can see that he's smiling.

Cassius walks off the train and the cameras show District One. I know this is the Capital's favorite district. But this particular section doesn't look quite right. Sure, the first picture of the town center and cheering citizens are fine. Then, Cassius heads deeper into the district and all color and cheer soon begin to fade.

Now, the buildings are gray and crumbling.

"Looks kind of ugly for District One," I remark.

Mom nods. "It does look entirely different. But I suppose everywhere has its bad areas."

Cassius stops in front of an unremarkable, squat gray house. He motions for the cameras to follow.

The scene changes to inside the house.

And the interviews begin.

**On Capital Screens**

The house was full of faded furniture.

Everything in it seemed dull somehow. Almost saddened. It was as if the Lockheart house itself was full of worry and a defeated sort of air to it.

But there were touches of happiness every so often.

Little flowers in window boxes. Home-made curtains and bright handmade pillows. Little touches by Mrs. Lockheart to make it seem more homey.

Mrs. Lockheart and her husband sit very stiffly. A girl, Adonis's younger sister Velvet, sat between them.

Cassius smiled at the camera. "Welcome into the home of the Lockheart family. Their son, Adonis, is currently fighting in the Games and has made it to the final eight." He turns to the family on the couch. "Mr. Lcokheart, how do you feel now that your son has made it this far?"

The man straightens. "I can't say I'm surprised. He's been training for this for years."

Mrs. Lockheart smiled thinly. "We're just counting down the minutes until he can come back to us."

Cassius nodded at them. "Of course, of course. Now there have been rumors floating around that Adonis was somehow involved with his district partner, the recently deceased Kaja. Do you have any thoughts about this, or verification of whether or not said rumors are true?"

Mr. Lockheart stiffened. "Adonis never had a girlfriend. He was too focused on his training. He never knew that girl."

Velvet suddenly cleared her throat, uncrossing her legs under her pretty sunshine yellow dress. "Just because you don't think he knew her, it doesn't mean they weren't involved. I think it's nice that he let this girl, Kaja, feel some kind of happiness before she died."

"Velvet," Mrs. Lockheart said through clenched teeth.

But Velvet only frowned and continued. "That's just who Adonis is. He's a really good person. Honorable. And he wants everyone to have honorable deaths, too."

Maybe Cassius sensed the tension and wanted to hear more from this strange fourteen year old who obviously had an entirely different relationship to Adonis than her parents.

Whatever it was, he seemed suddenly much more eager to continue the interview.

"What was your favorite thing to do with Adonis?" Cassius asked.

Velvet smiled sweetly. "Oh, we loved to train together." Anyone could see a distinct look up at her father for approval at saying this. He gave a little nod and she continued. "He would try to teach me how to use swords, which wuld crack us up because I couldn't even lift them. Then I'd try to teach him archery. Equally as funny, since he was awful at it. We had a really good time together."

She sighed softly. "I want him back home. So maybe he can train me again and see if I can represent our family again. Who knows?"

"Ah." Cassius said. "I see you two are close."

"Oh yes."

Cassius shifted in his seat. "Mr. Lockheart, who do you think is Adonis's biggest competition?"

The man made a sound somewhere between a snort and a grunt. "Competition? Honestly, I'm surprised that most of these scrawny things even made it this far. That girl from Five is only pretending to be a Career. She doesn't have Adonis's training at all. And the archer from Eight? He's just gotten lucky, that's all. His little ally is sick and pathetic and so are the two little girls somehow left. Adonis is going to come home."

"So you're very confident." Cassius's voice held a sort of uncertainty. Like he was trying to goad Velvet or her mother into saying otherwise.

Poor Velvet did look as though she wanted to. She straightened up, as if to say something.

But then her father's hand came down on her leg.

To any viewer, the gesture would have looked simple. Perhaps it meant nothing at all.

Just a father setting a hand gently but firmly on his daughter. He likely just thought she was saying a little too much or something.

No one thought anything of it.

Except Velvet.

Only she could feel the true force of his hand coming down on her skin, or the sharp pain as his long fingernails dug into her thigh.

Mr. Lockheart was not pleased.

And Velvet had a large bruise on her thigh the rest of the week to prove it.

**District Two**

The scene on the television changed.

Now, the audience was transported to a place of ashen color. A place where a huge mountain loomed over the city, casting its shadow on an already dark and gloomy space. Here, quarry workers shuffled along in their blacks and grays, with faces as cast over with clouds as the sky above them.

But something strange was in the air.

There was a charged feeling to it. Like the air itself was electric. And upon closer look, there was something holding these citizens together.

A cruel determination to bring honor to their lowly district.

District Two.

A strange place for sure. Citizens of the Capital knew that this district was well-liked and well-respected by the President. With so many winners hailing from it and many sure to come, it was no wonder he liked it so. Still, it was not a pretty place.

And to the citizens of the Capital, anything that wasn't pleasing to the eye was quite difficult to like.

So even though everyone knew that this was the district they were supposed to favor over the rest, many still squirmed at the sight of it.

There, many citizens lived in plain housing or dingy tenements, the likes of which the country hadn't seen in hundreds of years before the districts were really separated from the Capital.

In one such of these crumbling buildings, Cassius was interviewing the Parker family.

They sat at a beat-up table. Various stains covered the walls, but the table had been scrubbed clean. Cassius was looking very uncomfortable in a place like this. And there was no question why. He was used to a life of luxury and seeing such a place was still very new to him.

He cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?"

A husband and a wife sat at the end, while Shimmer's grown brother sat beside them. The woman had blond hair like Shimmer's and the sort of facial structure that showed that she had once been as beautiful as Shimmer was now.

Cassius stared at them. "Let's start with Cyrstal. You're Shimmer's mother. When did your daughter first tell you she wanted to bring you the honor of volunteering herself?"

Crystal folded her hands in her lap. "Shimmer's been talking about the Games for as long as I can remember. Sometimes these kids are just born with this wanting to go. Some have to get through learning about all the honor it can bring. But others just have it inside them."

"I see."

"Shimmer first told me, oh, I believe she would have been six or so. The Victory Tour was on television and she watched the girl who won that year wearing this beautiful dress and flocked by adoring fans. And she said that was what she wanted more than anything else. What that girl on the screen had."

Cassius smiled. "And you think your daughter's dream will be realized?"

Crystal pursed her lips slightly. "Yes. That's what a mother can hope for."

"Are you and your daughter close?"

Every member of the family shifted slightly at this question. Brion raised his eyebrows expectantly at his mother. Mr. Parker seemed suddenly intensely interested in a crack on the table.

"Shimmer's very independent." That was Crystal's quick answer. "But she's always my little girl."

"Ah, of course." Cassius remarked, his voice as smooth and sickly sweet as syrup. "Now, onto Cascus. Tell me, do you think Shimmer has been too brutal during these Games, or merely determined to return home?"

Cascus Parker sighed. "That's a good question. But I do feel my daughter's actions are all towards her ultimate goal of winning this thing. The least I can do as a father is support her all the way. She has every citizen in Two's support and I know she'll get home."

"Now Brion. This Shimmer we're seeing in the Arena and on television, is she the Shimmer you know or someone else entirely?"

Brion, a young man in his early twenties, cleared his throat. "She really started changing a few years ago. But when she was younger she was obviously very different. But yes, she was very determined and focused even back then. So that part of her remains. When she was little, if she wanted something, she got it." He smiled wryly. "Not too much has changed since then at all, I guess."

"Who do you think is Shimmer's greatest competition?"

Brion shrugged. "Julian, I guess. District Two makes 'em well." He grins.

But there was a slight tone of sarcasm in his voice.

Perhaps a particularly observant viewer may have noticed the similarity between Brion Parker's tone and that of Adonis Lockheart on the night of his interview. Sarcasm creeping into almost every word and subtle hints that not all was as it seemed to be.

It's just that those facts never seemed to cross anyone in the Capital's minds. To them, it was simply television and nothing more than that at all.

Like so many of the other things they had been viewing.

They thought nothing of it.

Cassius looked to the camera and then back at Cascus. "Mr. Parker, are you worried that your daughter may not ever come home? Has this crossed your mind?"

The man shook his head firmly. "Cassius, she is a Career. Born and bred. She's been training for this her whole life and she wants this more than ay other person I've ever seen. And really, really wanting something is powerful, Cassius. I don't think death is even an option at this point." He smiles thinly.

"Well put," Cassius said. "Are you all beside yourself with excitement at the fact that your daughter is bringing a better life for you?"

Brion grunted. "What, you mean a big house? There are a lot better ways to get something like that than by going to the Games and killing chil-"

Mr. Parker interrupted here by clearing his throat loudly. "Ah, Brion doesn't know what he's talking about. He was never really a Career, you know." He looked at the camera desperately, as if for approval. Like he expected to be in serious trouble for what his son had just said.

And he probably would be.

The mask was falling off.

The cracks that ran beneath the facade that was the Parker family were starting to show.

Cassius was starting to sense this and quickly moved onto his last question. "Parker family, are you worried about your daughter's brutality in the Games? Do you think she's taking anything too far?"

"Far from it." Mr. Parker gave a very forced smile. "We're elated."

The Moretti family lived in another area of the district, not far from the Parker family's building.

It was an ordinary house, much like that of the Lockhearts, but without the gentle touches here and there. This was as cold as the rock it had been hewn out of it. It was directly under the shadow of the huge mountain that loomed over the district, making it perpetually gray and dreary.

Inside, the camera panned into the Moretti family, seated in what served as the living room.

Mr. Moretti sat tall and proud, his chin lifted high. Such was the case in the Career districts. The father seemed confident. Except for Mr. Parker. But that could be quickly forgotten.

This man was something else entirely and something much more familiar to the viewers.

An ordinary man from Two who was proud and honored of his son's accomplishments.

Cassius began. "Mrs. Moretti, how do you feel now that Julian has made it this far in the Games? Do you feel as though your worry about him has decrease now that he's nearly to the end, or increased because the competition is becoming more fierce?"

The woman folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes looked slightly swollen. From crying? But that couldn't be. She was a Career's mother, after all. They didn't cry because their sons were in the Games.

She answered his question in a flat voice. "My worry hasn't increased at all. Alexander here says there is no cause for worry. Our son will come home bringing honor and glory." She looked at her husband as she talked.

Similar to how Mrs. Lockheart frequently looked at her husband.

A boy on the couch who looked like a smaller version of Julian, only with lighter features, sat up. "Dad says that we ought to be very proud of Julian and we are. He's going to restore honor to our family. I'm really grateful to him for that."

"Honor? Please, Xander as I've heard you are called, explain this to our audience."

He shrugs. "Okay. You see Julian's father became a father really young. He died in the Games when he was eighteen and Julian was just a baby. The Games had only just started, so he probably didn't get the training like we did. My dad is actually Julian's stepdad. And he wants Julian to make a better life for our family."

"And to restore the Moretti's name to what it rightfully deserves," The man cut in. He patted his wife's knee. "My wife deserves this."

But anyone could clearly see that this was not his true motive.

And anyone who knows anything knows that a man with ulterior motives is as dangerous as snake hiding its fangs.

Cassius straightened his garish pink tie. "Julian seems like a very strong young man, inside and out. Where do you think he gets all this from?"

Mrs. Moretti smiled a wan smile that didn't really reach her eyes. "A father does have quite an impact on his boy. I am very proud with the way Julian has turned out. And I think the nation is in for a real victor and it's about time that happened. Julian truly does deserve this."

"Mom's influenced him, too." Xander said this firmly. "Just as much as my dad has. She's taught us both a lot, like what it means to be really noble and all that."

"I see. Now Julian told him there was a girl at home he wanted to get back to. Can you all tell me a little more about this girl?"

This time, Mrs. Moretti's smile was sincere. "Of course, Cassius. Nazri is his girlfriend and she has been for a while. They're like very good friends, the way they act around each other. She's like a part of the family. I can see why he wants to get back to Nazri."

"Thank you Mrs. Moretti. Julian seems like he is quite the popular guy, or so I would think. Does he have any enemies at all?"

Mr. Moretti cleared his throat gruffly.

Disapproval was quite evident. "Julian is impulsive, as everyone is at that age. He's made some wrong choices. I think this is because he wasn't my birth son. If he was my real son, he wouldn't be involved in any of this gambling or whatnot. He did a real stupid thing or two and maybe the Games are setting him straight."

"So you are very glad that your son is in the Games?"

"I most certainly am, Cassius. I most certainly am."

**District Three**

The Brow's apartment was right in the center of Three, surrounded by stark white high rises where the newest technology was being tested and created.

However, their own apartment was anything but stark and dreary. A prism hung above the bright and airy kitchen, casting little rainbows all over. The window had a flower box filled with pink geraniums that the camera zoomed in on. There was a framed school picture on the wall of Aya when she was small, framed by honey blonde curls.

The floor was the ugly linoleum that filled every apartment in Three, but it was clean and there was even a simple brown rug covering it.

Mrs. Brow was the kind of woman who fussed over Cassius and the camera crew, making sure her house was just so and that they all had cup of coffee to drink.

Or she only did so to distract herself. Her eyes were red and rimmed with tears.

Ross, Aya's grown brother, didn't seem to be faring much better. His face looked as though it had slowly been crumbling over the past two weeks.

This was clearly a family torn apart by what was happening to Aya.

The camera zoomed in on Mrs. Brow's face.

She fingered a tissue in her hands and begun to talk. "Aya was always our little girl. Even though she's fourteen years old now, she's still the babied one." She smiles at this. "I'm not entirely sure if she enjoys this, but at least she knows that she's loved."

Cassius nodded. "Is her life here happy, Mrs. Brow?"

The woman sighed. "I cannot say that her life has been an easy one. As you know, she is very sick and has been since she was a little girl. But I have done everything I can do and so has Ross. The two are very close."

"Ross, how do you feel about your sister sacrificing herself as a tribute?"

"To be honest, Cassius? I think anyone who voted her in should rot in hell."

Silence.

Cassius cleared his throat lightly. Apparently, that was what he did when he felt uncomfortable.

"So I see that you are very upset by this," Was his eventual response. "But I will tell you that you should feel honor. Aya, your little sister, has made it to the final eight in the Games. Not only has she sacrificed herself as a tribute, but she also had proven her worth."

Ross said nothing in response to this.

Cassius continued. "As you know, I interviewed Aya and the audience loved her. She's such a lovely little girl. Just like a breath of fresh air, that's what many have told me. What do you both think is her best quality?"

Mrs. Brow smiled. "Aya is very good at lightening up the situation. Even if it's dire, you can trust Aya to make people more comfortable. She's very much a people person and she's also quite empathetic."

Ross patted his mother's knee.

She nodded for him to begin. So he spoke directly to the camera."She's braver than anyone else I know. I mean, just look at her. Throughout the whole Games, she's hardly shed a tear. I know I would be a total wreck and I know a lot of people who would say the same. But Aya keep her chin up."

Mrs. Brow's voice dropped so that anyone viewing this would have to lift their ears. "She views death like another adventure. One she's going to embark on knowing that she did whatever she could during her life."

Ross came in. "That's just who Aya is. Death to her doesn't have to be viewed all philosophically. She's just going to charge head on and meet it and that's that."

"So do you think she will die?"

"Everybody dies, Cassius." Ross said flatly. "Everybody dies."

Mrs. Brow's fingers fluttered. "And if she wins the Games, then she can get real medicine which will make her better. So she can have a good and long life." She smiled faintly at this.

"What do you think of her ally, Casper?"

Ross looked at his mother. "Ah, Casper. I will tell you, Cassius, that guy is one amazing ally. He's just what has been keeping Aya alive. Every day my mother and I are grateful that he chose Aya to be his ally. We still don't know exactly why he did because he's a pretty good archer. But it looks like they're keeping each other okay mentally as well as physically. Some day, I hope we can thank Casper or his family. We're so, so grateful."

"My hope is that if my baby can't get home, Casper can get home to his." Mrs. Brow said softly.

Cassius smiled. Though it wasn't exactly genuine.

Nothing about him was.

But did most of the viewers care? Absolutely not.

"Do you think you will ever be able to move on after this, Mrs. Brow?"

The woman shook her head and cast her eyes down. "Aya is and always has been everything to me. She knows that. She didn't deserve this. No on deserves this, but Aya least of all."

Cassius's eyes got a strange glint in them. An almost malicious one. "Then why did she tell others to vote her in?"

Ross gritted his teeth. "Oh, you have some nerve saying that. Aya was confused and upset at that time. She just wasn't thinking straight. But that's not who she is. She's really an amazing young girl who, like you said earlier, is just a breath of fresh air."

Cassius held up his hands. "My apologies. I have to keep this somewhat interesting, after all."

Ross and Mrs. Brow exchanged a look.

"I have one last question for the both of you. If you could say one thing to Aya, what would it be?"

Mrs. Brow looked right at the camera.

"Aya, if you are out there, I would like you to know something. No matter what happens, you will always be my sunshine. I don't want you to go Aya, just as I don't want the sun to go either. But please, if you have to go, you can go peacefully because there is no more pain where you are going. It would be selfish of me to keep the sun all trapped up in my jar, wouldn't it? You need to go where you need to go. And you can do that."

"You can go now, little bird." Ross said quietly.

Then, the camera shut off.

The first part of the interviews was over.

If the camera had lingered for just a second more, the audience would have seen something else.

A lone tear, slowly making its way down Cassius Milan's face.

**A/N That was only the first part of the interviews. The next will be in the following chapter, and then back to the Games.**

**Oak's death was hard for me to write. Some serious feels there.**

**Oak's song is called Dark Days by Punch Brothers. It was on the original soundtrack and I love the lyrics. They illustrate his closeness with his family. The "sister" it refers to is Howl. I think if you just take a look, it really si like a poem.**

Mother, listen to my heart.

Mother, listen to my heart,

Just as one beat ends, another starts.

You can hear no matter where you are

Sister, hide our love away

From the evil we both know.

It can see you through these dark days,

Though they seem to darken as I go.

Our love will see us through these dark, dark days sister,

'Til it lights the way back home.

Sister, hide our love away.

It can turn the whole world upside down,

Shake it 'til the sky falls to the ground.

We don't have to reap the fear they sow,

Friends, as long as we hide our love away,

In the good they'll never know.

_[Chorus]_

It can see us through these dark days,

Though they seem to darken as we go.

Our love will see us through these dark, dark days sister,

'Til it lights the way back home.

Sister, hide our love away.

Mother, listen to my heart,

Just as one beats ends, another starts.

You can hear no matter where you are.

**Feedback is appreciated and loved by me! Please let me know what you thought and what you would like to see in the coming chapters.**


	33. Pocketing the Stars

**A/N I'm on vacation now, so updates may not be regular. Have all of you guys been having an awesome summer? I know this story has made mine a lot better! This chapter has Part 2 of the family interviews. Then, it switches back to the Games.**

**I have a forum called The 2013 Hunger Games Awards. If you've read a particularly good fic lately, go and nominate it.**

**Also, if any of you guys want to check out my fiction press stories, Heading For Sun or Sparks, you will get a gazillion internet cookies and all that good stuff!**

**On Capital Screens**

**District Four**

If the last places had been out of Cassius and his crew's comfort zones, they didn't even compare to this.

Called simply The Bayou by all who lived there, it was here on the outskirts of Four and seemingly beyond all reach of the Capital. The people are a kind all to their own.

Rows of shacks built out of scraps with tin roofs perch atop stilts, the murky water lapping up on them. People stood out on the decks of these shacks, tying up their boats or emptying out their catch of the day. All stopped what they were doing to stare at the cameras. All frown at them.

The cameras tried to cover this by simply zooming in on the luxurious boat Cassius and the crew were traveling on.

Shacks whizzed by. Men sat on the edge of their decks with fishing poles in the water. Others were on boats in the same narrow channel, dropping their nets. Children peered out from the cracks of the falling-apart houses, wearing dirty clothes full of holes.

The camera zoomed in on a group of men dangling their legs in the water, sipping whiskey from colored bottles and glaring.

No one needed to say a word.

It was obvious enough that the crew wasn't welcome here.

The people of The Bayou prided themselves on being brave and rebellious. But they weren't going to do what they wanted to do, still. The men with their bottles resisted the urge to throw some at the crew and the children had learned to control themselves from sticking out their tongues. They weren't going to smile, though. That they could do.

The boat finally stopped at a rather unremarkable little shack. Its tin roof was well-kept enough. The crew climbed out, the camera panning over the little dock with its rusty old motorboat filled with nets, the small family's only supply of income.

Unlike many of what passed for houses in this area, this one had a door. Glass jars filled with bright pink flowers sat on a slightly lopsided windowsill and a makeshift wind chime made out of bits of bottles blew around in the warm breeze.

This place was cared for. Ramshackle as it might be, it was clear that whoever lived here was trying to make the best of the situation.

This was the Callos' home.

Victor Callo opened the door and welcomed the crew inside. He ran a finger through wild dark hair, the same as his little sister's. "Welcome to our home." He said. "It ain't much, to be sure. But it's home for me and for Vi, so that's all that matters."

He pulled out a chair for Cassius to sit on. Across the table that was well-made and sturdy, Victor took his seat.

The cameras showed the one room place. There was just the table they sat at and a small cooking area. A dusty couch was shoved in one corner, but the pillows were plumped. Two mattresses were in the other. One, with a pink sheet, was perfectly made. The floor was full of knotholes and cracks.

Cassius gestured to the beds. "Is that where you and Violet sleep?"

Victor nodded. "Yeah, that's it." He smiled a little. "As you can see, Violet always keeps her bed perfectly made. She wants this place to look as nice as possible."

"I can see that." But it seemed that Cassius wanted to dodge the subject of the two's obvious poverty, as he changed the subject. Capital viewers didn't want a sob story about the state of the districts. No, they were here for good entertainment.

So that was what he would give. "How do you think your sister's doing in the Games?"

There was a pause. The camera zoomed in on Victor's face. He stared into his lap and fingered a hole in his denim pants. "I think she's doing real well. She's already gotten to the final eight. Now that's something." His voice wavered slightly. "I couldn't be more proud of her, honestly. Every time I see her on screen I'm thinkin,' 'That's my little sister.' And she's so tough she's gotten this far. I don't expect her to win, Cassius, I don't. But if I could tell her one thing, it would be that I'm proud of her."

"Do you think that would mean a lot to her, coming from you? Are you two close?"

Victor smiled. "Are we close? I tell you, we're all each other has."

"I can see that. What do you and Violet like to do together most?"

"That's an easy one. We love taking the little motorboat out to see what we can catch. Just 'bout all our food comes from what we can get for ourselves. Sometimes I take her out to the dryer swamp ground to go froggin.' That's where she learned to throw those knives so good. Or we catch fireflies."

Cassius laughed. "It's hard to imagine a rather large and strong looking young man like you running around catching fireflies."

Victor waved his hand and grinned. "I do it for her. It's just something we've done since we were real little. Our father used to tell us that for every firefly you caught and released, you can make a wish. Vi got real stuck on that one. We still catch fireflies on summer nights." His face fell slightly. "Didn't get to do that with her this year, though, I guess. I think if I had one more evening with her, that's how I'd spend it. Catching fireflies with her."

"That sounds very nice, Victor. And if you caught a firefly with her, what would your wish on it be?"

"That I could go be with her. Wherever she ends up. Just to be with her."

The camera faded to blackness.

**District Five**

In many ways, District Five resembled District Three. It had the same sort of high rise buildings and busy streets. Also like Three, it was one of the most densely populated districts. Its citizens were a hard-working and intelligent bunch, more concerned with cunning and brains over brawn.

There was the same sort of layout, with one extremely large city dominating the district.

It was not a pretty place, but then, neither was Three. There wasn't a tree or even a blade of grass in sight. Cold, hard concrete filled the camera's view.

There were some key differences, though.

First and foremost was that it was far more depressing than Three. And this was quite a feat, seeing that Three wasn't exactly wealthy, either. The large high rises weren't the gleaming white of the Capital's technological hub, but rather a dismal and peeling gray. Five's air was filled with smoke and a host of unnamable chemicals.

Children sat on peeling steps at the front of these buildings, staring with empty eyes at the camera crew. Almost accusingly.

Cassius led the crew up the steps of a building that was slightly larger and far less grayer than the rest. If Five had any more affluent citizens, this was where they resided.

It was in this building that the Nikolina family lived.

They lived on the very top of the building. The hallway was carpeted and lamps lining it lit the way in a dull sort of light. The camera went in on a large wooden door with a brass knocker. The door alone seemed as intimidating as the family itself had already proven itself to be.

He lifted the knocker only once.

The door creaked open and Mrs. Nikolina stood in a simple black dress. Simple as it was, to many of the other families just interviewed, it would have seemed practically opulent.

She gave the camera a smile. "Welcome to our house. My husband and daughters are in the back in the living room."

The woman, who was just as small as Katerina, but with a more petite figure, led the crew through the apartment. It was much larger than the rest in the district, with several large, airy rooms where many only had one.

Pictures of the family marched along in an orderly way along the dark walls. All had serious faces of Mr. Nikolina staring at the viewer against a gray background, or small versions of his wife and daughters doing the same. Cassius gestured for the camera to pause on a picture of Katerina when she was younger, no more than nine years old maybe. In the picture, she's dressed in a frilly little dress with her dark hair in perfectly curled pigtails, tied with red satin ribbons. Though she's only a little girl in the picture, she stares out at the camera with a stone-like expression. It seems like not much has changed at all.

"Yes, that was Katerina on her ninth birthday," Mrs. Nikolina said primly. "It seems like just yesterday."

"She looks so serious!" Cassius exclaimed. "Has she always been like that?"

Mrs. Nikolina laughed softly. "I suppose she has."

They entered the living room, a room colored with much red and gold and brown. The couch the family sat on was deep red. Decorations popped up every which way that would never be seen in any other home in Five or really any other average district citizen's home. A few lamps and a patterned rug, with throw pillows and a fine set of drawers.

Mr. Nikolina shook Cassius's hand. Unlike his wife and daughter. he was in no way small.

He towered over Cassius, who, though he would never admit it, was only 5'5 or so. He had bronze colored skin, a rarity in his district. But it seemed this family had broken off all ties with Five. A few Capital viewers, the ones more involved in politics, would know that he controlled much of District Two's power, a a representative of his district. Perhaps all the time spent there had rendered him with the appearance of a citizen of Two. down to his green eyes and dark hair that Katerina had inherited.

She seemed to have nothing of her mother at all. It was obvious to any viewer that the woman not only had the wispy reddish blond so common of Five as well as the soft-spoken manner its citizens so often possessed.

No, Kat was all her father.

Cassius addressed the family on the couch. Along with their parents, two young girls sat. One was six years old and the other was nine. Both had lighter hair and a shy, sweet sort of manner. Maybe their father hadn't influenced them quote as much as he had with Kat.

"Mr. Nikolina, did you expect your daughter to get this far?" Cassius began.

The man smiled, but it didn't hit his eyes. It was a cold smile. "One would think because she is from Five, you can't expect much of her. But my daughter prides herself on being different. I did expect her to get this far."

"I think it's pretty clear to all viewing what Katerina thinks of Shimmer, the girl from Two. What do you think of Shimmer?" This time, Cassius looks at the entire family to answer.

Mrs. Nikolina sighed. "Oh, Kat. She's always getting strong feelings over everything. She either loves a person or she, quite simply, wants them dead. I don't feel quite as strongly about the girl. I suppose I'm too busy thinking about my own daughter."

One of the young girls, one with a spray of freckles across her nose, laughed. "We hate Shimmer, right Tesla? We think she's mean." She giggled.

The older girl, Tesla, with her braided hair and lavender dress, patted the girl's knee. "Well, we don't _hate _her. She's just kinda scary. We want Kat to win cause she wants to win so bad, so I guess we can't like Shimmer much, can we?"

Cassius laughed. "No, I suppose you can't! But I'll bet you think your sister can take her down, eh?"

Tesla's face turned dead serious. It was a look that seems very out of place on her young face. Her large brown eyes widened. "Well, I guess we have to hope for that. My daddy says she's gonna beat everyone there cause she's a really fierce fighter. But mom and I feel a little scared sometimes. We know she's hardly fifteen. Her birthday was two weeks ago." Tesla smiles slightly. "That was a good day. Most of the time Kat's real serious and doesn't talk to us much. But she was all happy and I miss that." She took a deep breath and her eyes widen even more. Tesla shot a worried glance at her father.

But he sat, cold as a rock, saying nothing.

"I just miss my sister." Tesla said softly. "Sometimes she looks scary on the screen. But she's just my sister."

And that was the end of their interview.

**District Eight**

District Eight had always been notorious to the Capital citizens.

Notorious for being rebellious. Cassius himself had often wondered why this was. Yes, the district citizens were nearly all a mangy group of riled-up aggressors. But this place more than any other. It was strange to him. District Eight produced textiles and clothes were such a large part of the Capital lifestyle. They could have been another District One. Their mayor could have made the same inside sort of deal the Career Districts made so many years ago to have secret centers built up to prevent children's death, in exchange for the children to be taught to love the Capital.

But that never happened.

It was clear that the people of Eight had strong emotions for the Capital, indeed. Strong emotions of hate.

Maybe it was merely a matter of geography. District One was practically in the Capital's lap, while Eight was far removed. Districts One, Two and Four were all spread out. District Eight was very densely populated, with the overwhelming majority of its residents living in inhumane, crowded tenements. Such close quarters, with people all shoved together like this, were bound to create trouble.

Cassius and his crew and just about every citizen watching the Games from their Capital screens was taken aback by the shocking conditions of the place.

The reason? The last time family interviews had taken place in Eight was more than fifteen years ago, before Cassius had even been hired. That young woman had died shortly after anyway.

But now there were two tributes in the final eight. Any viewer could see that something was very odd here. The little girl with the impulsive streak and the orphan who'd had the whole place's back turned on him.

He started with the girl.

Keira Thyme lived in an unremarkable tenement with laundry hanging from clotheslines outside and narrow hallways crowded with glaring people. The crew hesitantly climbed up the rickety steps, pinching their noses at the stench that came with dozens upon dozens of people crammed together.

He knocked on a door at the end of another narrow hallway.

An old woman opened it. She wore a long black skirt and a black shawl around her. How very different things were here, with the citizens wearing clothes from several centuries ago. The woman pulled the shawl tighter around her but she smiled at them kindly enough. "Well, come in," she said softly.

The camera panned the tiny room. The old woman went to sit on a torn couch with her family. The couch seemed the only real piece of furniture in the room, besides a rickety table and three beat up chairs. A dingy curtain separated the bedroom from the rest.

There were four members of Keira's family. Her grandmother, parents and an older brother.

Cassius started with her mother. "Mrs. Thyme, did you expect your daughter to make it this far?"

The woman clutched her handkerchief. Obviously she'd been doing a lot of crying. But the question seemed to send some light into her red eyes. "With Keira we've learned to expect the unexcited. If she put her mind to it, she'd always get it done. It's no different here."

He addressed the boy and his father next. "Mr. Thyme and Flax, what was Keira like at home, just on a day to day basis?"

Flax just sat there, but his father answered right away. "Keira's just a ball of light. She's fiercely determined in everything she does. She works in a mill like most kids here, but she also trues her hardest to go to school. If she does win those Games, she'll never have to work a day again. Just gives us something to hope for." He smiled thinly.

"Flax, is it hard for you as an older brother to see your sister in these Games?"

The young man, with the same caramel-colored hair as Keira, stared down at his hands. "Yeah. I guess so. I just really feel awful that Keira and I weren't closer. We just didn't talk to each other much and I feel like I was real hard on her at the Goodbyes. And I can't protect her anymore. A guy's supposed to protect his sister. But I can't do nothing and that's real hard."

Cassius nodded. "From what we can see on the cameras, Keira appears to be very attached to her token. We can often see her pull out a piece of paper to read it. What does it say?"

Keira's grandmother answered it right away. "Well, that's a poem, Cassius." Her wrinkled face pulls into a smile. "It was my favorite when I was a girl and my grandmother's favorite as well. It's about rising above it all. I hoped it would make this easier for Keira. But you know, she's still just as much a light as before. She's still finding ways to make things a little less dark. That's just Keira."

The camera cuts off.

The second it flashes back on, the viewers were transported not far away at all. In fact, Casper Monroe's living quarters were only a few buildings over from Keira's.

Here though, the door was opened by a young, rather pretty woman. She had dark hair pulled back in a bun and very blue eyes. Under her shapeless brown dress was a round stomach.

"Hello," She said, plainly nervous. "Come in."

The place was small, of course. But Elorica and Casper had been doing a fine job keeping it neat and cozy. There were actually two rooms, though one was much smaller than the other. The camera man zoomed in on a surprisingly poignant image.

A simple crib, a rough chest, a rocking chair and the walls painted a warm shade of peach. It was clearly a baby's room.

Cassius and his crew followed Elorica to a living area with a cheery red gingham couch and a chair with a few mismatched patches. Elorica sat down in the chair, clenching and unclenching her hands.

"Elorica, I say you have a room for the baby. Did Casper do that?"

She nodded. "Casper wanted to do himself to surprise me. A few weeks ago, when I was still working, he painted the room and put in a crib he'd built without me knowing. The little chest of drawers and the rocking chair he bought himself. Now I don't work anymore because Casper got himself a better job. He's always been a hard worker." She smiled.

"Has it been lonely without him here?"

"You can't even imagine! It's just so quiet. I won't ever get used to it." Her voice dropped by the last words.

Cassius patted her knee in a way that must have been meant to make her feel better, but only made Elorica look sincerely uncomfortable. "Maybe you won't have to," he said brightly.

Elorica pat her stomach. "That's what I'm hoping for. But for now, we're just taking it a day at a time. That's all."

"What did you and Casper love to do together?"

"Oh, you won't want to hear it!" Elorica smiled and waved her hand. It seemed like she'd become fairly adept at playing the audience. Ellie was a smart girl, just as smart as Casper. Anyone in the audience could see this.

Cassius leaned in. "Of course we want to hear." He grinned.

She shrugged and gave another little smile. "We loved to go out on the roof on warm nights to go look at the stars. It sounds strange, I know. But the stars in Eight are amazing and looking up at them, everything just feels okay. Like we're such a small part of everything that maybe the bad things aren't quite so bad."

Such thought was obviously beyond Cassius. "What do you mean?"

Elorica ran her hand along her stomach again. "Star reminds me of that. That's what we're calling her. It's what Casper wanted. Sometimes good things can come out of something terrible like this. And Star is the best thing I can hope for." She smiled again.

"I see."

"And Casper told me something that makes this easier. He said we're just a tiny speck, a little pocket of eternity. Whatever bad things happen here won't last long. There's a whole big eternity waiting to continue. I guess that' why we liked looking up at the stars so much. Casper told me that he'd heard that anyone's goal should be to find that eternity in each moment."

"Have you, er, found that yet?"

Elorica smiled. "With Casper I did. I've already found it several times."

The screen goes black.

**Adonis Lockheart's POV**

"We need food."

Katerina's face is etched in annoyance as she stares at the empty bags of granola and jerky. Those three words would be enough to spark terror in any ordinary tribute, but here in the Career pack, annoyance is all they warrant. We'll be getting food shortly.

Still, it's been a few hours.

Its unusual. Usually a pack of whatever would float on down right to us as soon as we ran out.

"I don't get it." I shake my head. "Why have we not gotten anything yet?"

Shimmer grips her spear. "I know why, Adonis. And I don't see why I'm the only one who can tell, you know. It's simple. The kids from those other districts are getting all the sponsors. People feel all sorry for the orphan with a baby at home or the little girls. What bullshit."

Julian rolls his eyes. "You're being paranoid. Most people only sponsor kids they think will win."

Sure enough, a parachute comes down gently. A low beeping sound fills the air. Oh man, am I grateful. I was really starting to get hungry.

Katerina rushes over to open it. She opens a white container. The white is slightly shocking against the muggy brown and green landscape. I am so fed up with seeing browns and greens. It's been how many days? A week? More? My head's pounding so hard from the lack of sleep I don't even bother trying to count.

"It's noodles!" Katerina calls. "They smell really good!" Her face breaks into a grin.

It is pretty strange to see her smiling. I guess she must really like noodles or something. Her face always has that severe look, like it's been chiseled out of stone. But now she's in a wide grin and she actually looks pretty good like that.

Then, my stomach jumps.

Right now, smiling, she has the same brown eyes as Kaja had.

She scoops up the noodles and puts them in the styrofoam bowls we've been using. Julian grabs some and begins to just stuff them in his mouth, no spoon needed. Well, the kids from Two aren't known for being well-mannered. Of course Shimmer gets a dirty look from her and considerably less noodles, but she says nothing. Just tosses her blond hair over her shoulder.

Katerina scoops noodles into my bowl. Suddenly, she meets my eyes.

Her brown eyes widen. I have to look down. The girl is barely over five feet. Just a kid.

"Thanks," I mumble.

She gives a little snort, but smiles again. Huh. Maybe over a week in this swamp has changed Katerina just slightly. I mean, I'm no idiot. Sure, she keeps up that "cold-hearted, murderous bitch" act for the cameras. But right now she doesn't look any older than my little sister.

We eat our noodles in silence. They're delicious, a taste of the luxury that is the Capital. The pasta is lemony and dusted with herbs and mushrooms. But my mind is somewhere else. I

t's hard to enjoy anything in this place.

The final eight. Kaja was supposed to be here. She was supposed to get this far. I don't know what I would've done, though. There's only so far a guy can protect someone. But I didn't even start to do that.

No. This is not the time for that.

I have to focus. Keep my eyes on the goal. Getting back home. I have to get back to Velvet so I can spend some time with my little sister that doesn't involve training for the Games. I'll already have won, so there'll be no need for her to train. Man, what a life I can give her.

I'm doing this for Velvet.

And for Kaja, too. So no one will forget the girl with the honey blonde hair and those bright brown eyes. The girl who was fearless enough to go against all her district stood for to try to make the Games right.

Not that they ever were.

But hey. I didn't make the rules, right? I'm just here to play this game as best I can.

Julian slurps up the last of his pasta. "All right. So Oak is dead. But he was never a target anyway cause we saw that coming, didn't we?"

Shimmer laughs sharply. "What an idiot. What kind of a coward commits suicide? That's not entertainment for the Capital at all. That's just gross. We have to give them a good show. I mean, that's what we're here for. I'll never understand kids like Oak. This isn't the first time someone pulled something like that. Anyone remember the boy from Three in the nineteenth Hunger Games?"

"Amos Cable." I answer automatically, all my years of studying past Games showing through. "Committed suicide by stepping off his platform before the start."

Shimmer rolls her eyes. "Blew to high heaven, he did. Again, just gross."

Rage builds up in me. For the hundredth time, Kaja's face flashes in my head. "And the rest of this isn't?! How many little kids have you ran that spear of yours through, Shimmer? All the blood and guts coming out of 'em and I'm just supposed to think your stomach didn't coil one bit!"

She plays with her bowl. "Well, it is pretty gory and all but I didn't make the rules." She flips her hair over her shoulder again.

Well. That seems to be the phrase of choice among us Careers.

Julian clears his throat to get our attention. "My point is you guys; who's next?"

Katerina frowns in thought. "I think it's about time for Casper to go. I don't know but I don't like what's been going on with him. He's stayed under our radar somehow for this long. Where's he hiding? He somehow scored an eight in his private session. That's way too high for comfort."

"I agree." Shimmer says, which is kind of surprising. Since when has she agreed with any of us? She takes one look at our confused faces and raises her hands. "I'm just being logical here. I think it's time for him to be, well, eliminated. He's hogging the sponsors with his sob story only because he had the idiocy to knock up some girl."

A flash of anger goes across Julian's face at this. But he wipes it off immediately.

Wait a minute. He has a girl back at home and I'm sure of that. Yeah, I saw her picture when I was up late watching the Capital shows one night before the interviews. Maybe he actually feels some sympathy for Casper.

Or maybe I was just imagining it.

"What about his ally?" I ask no one in particular. "You know, that small one who's always coughing."

Julian waves his hand as if waving the very subject of her away. "If she gets in the way we do what we have to do. I want to get home just as much as any of you guys. Knocking off another number is what we want to do. But of she tries to run, just let her. She won't get far."

Everyone seems satisfied enough with that answer.

Katerina bites her lips. "And the girls? What about them?"

Violet and Keira. Those two girls even younger than Velvet. Well, both Velvets but really I'm thinking of my sister. I can't even wrap my head around how they've survived this far.

"I say we kill them." Shimmer says simply. "It's pretty obvious. Besides. they've made it this far so they must be at least some competition. I saw that Violet girl in training. Tiny thing, but she made up for it. She was wicked with a knife."

"Then that's that. Let's try the path we went on the first day again. Everyone goes with full weapons, okay?"

"So no one left to guard?" Katerina pipes up.

Julian shakes his head. "No. I think we're beyond that now. Anyone still alive isn't just some puny outer district kid with no skills at all. No way. These ones are the real deal. And even if you don't feel threatened by a thirteen year old girl or a guy from Eight with a bow, suit yourself. But I'm not taking any chances."

He's right. It's not like we have much to raid at this point anyway.

"If we find water of any kind, we stick by it." I point out. "Wherever they are, it has to be near water."

Julian stands up first. Katerina and I follow.

The heat is oppressive, just as it always is. I wonder if they can tell at home just how hot it really is here. Judging from all the sweat pouring down our backs, I think they'd know. Katerina and Shimmer have long since cared about the way their hair is looking. Now it just sticks to their necks limply.

Katerina lines up the knives in the pouch around her waist somewhat sluggishly and Shimmer groans slightly as she picks up her spear.

It's been a week here. That's one week too long, if you ask me. Why do these Games take so long anyway?

I walk over to the path, rubbing my sweaty hands on my pants. That doesn't do much good, seeing that these clothes are filthy. Wearing the same clothes for a week is just terrible.

The mud squelches in between my boots, but I've gotten used to that.

Katerina follows behind me, hardly flinching when she goes up to her ankles in a mud puddle.

"How come Julian's letting us lead?" She asks.

I'm about to shrug in answer when a hair-raising scream comes from behind us.

Julian clutches his abdomen. Blood is already pouring out. His face is frozen in a combination of terror, surprise and agony. Oh no. His face starts to sag and so does his body. In just a flash of a second, he falls to the ground. The mud begins to turn red.

Behind him, Shimmer stands tall, a bloody spear still in her hand.

Julian is lying on the ground, already starting to convulse. His hands are dripping red.

Shimmer just tried to kill Julian.

My brain feels fuzzy, like it can't begin to process the events. Katerina stands next to me, her mouth agape.

Julian is still convulsing.

"Go!" I roar. "Go!"

Before I can think twice, I grab her arm so hard she gasps in pain. My legs move faster than they've ever moved before, at least that's how it feels. I don't even notice the mud beneath our feet.

We just have to get to the path. Then we can really run.

Just keep my eyes on the path. That's all I have to do.

My lungs are already burning from the effort of running through the shin-high mud and reeds. Just keep pumping my legs and looking straight ahead.

Katerina whirls her head around, her ponytail whipping in the hot air. She's breathing heavily. Whether it's from the sudden running or just shock, I can't tell.

"Don't look back!" I shout. "Whatever you do, just keep looking forward!"

It takes every ounce of self-control I posses not to turn around myself and look back. We're next. I'm next. Shimmer is probably right on our tail. I don't know how fast that girl can run but I don't think I want to find out. My machete bangs painfully at my side, ready for me to whip it out.

The ground beneath my feet suddenly turns hard and packed. We've made it to the path. Trees become a blur as we shoot past them.

My stomach is twisting in knots and bile rises up in my throat.

But I don't stop running.

Not until we hit a denser area of trees and veer off the path into a little room formed by their branches and leaves. A hiding spot away from the path, sheltered by vines and undergrowth. This swamp is full of them.

Panting so hard I'm sure my heart's going to beat right out of my chest, I put my hands on my knees. Katerina just stands there. Still in shock, probably.

Then, a cannon booms. Long and low, it's rumbles goes through the trees and vines. It momentarily drowns out the dull chorus of insects and the croaking of frogs our ears have grown used to. Julian's cannon. Shimmer tried to kill him and succeeded.

"He's dead." My voice sounds oddly hollow. "Shit. That was so, so….." My voice trails off. "Shit. I guess death is just unexpected all the time, isn't it?"

But it warrants no response from Katerina.

I turn to look to her.

Her eyes are down, so I look down, too. On her arm is a red mark, starting to form the shape of a hand. It'll probably leave a bruise.

"What is it?" I choke out.

"You did that."

"Oh, yeah. Uh, sorry about that."

She shakes her head. "No, that's not what I meant. It's just…you, you grabbed me. You pulled me away. It's like you wanted me to go with you. Why didn't you just leave me beyond and save yourself, Adonis? Why did you get me?"

I rub my neck. "I wasn't really thinking."

Katerina smiles a half-smile. "You must think I'm a stupid idiot or something. You had my arm the entire time, Adonis."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I? I sort of figured we'd be better off the two of us. Just for now, I mean. We are allies, right? Until Casper and Shimmer and whoever our real competition is dies, we should probably still be allies."

She shrugs. "Okay, then."

And that's all.

**A/N Again, I apologize for a late update. I'm currently on vacation, so I haven't had time to write. But now that I'm back I'm having a blast with it. You guys really did submit some amazing characters so you should all feel proud of yourselves.**

**Julian's song is "Save Me" by Avenged Sevenfold, as suggested by his creator. I'm very glad for the input because these lyrics are really good. His death was very unexpected, I hope. It's meant to illustrate that death is always too soon. He's leaving behind his mother, brother and girlfriend but I think he'll be remembered. I really liked this character because he was a Career with some real depth to him. Here is a sample of the lyrics.**

No pulse inside of me Stone cold lips and heresy All lies into a degree Losing you I wanna be

You'll find out, right now He may be out of his mind But someday you will find That sanity has left us all blind And dragged us all behind

If you'd only open your mind Then someday you will find Insanity left us behind And walk right through the dark

I can see the picture's clear as yesterday Pictures of my own I can hear the voices begging you to stay But know you're not alone

Save me, entrapped in a vile world Save me, where the endings Are the same as every other We're only here to die


End file.
